Mild January

After two and a half weeks, the boys finally went back to school today. Rowan had his shorts on, which is part testament to his preference for short trousers for school but also an indication of how mild the weather has been for the last week. It was ten degrees when I dropped the boys off this morning.

It's warmer than that in Florida. Sharon is in Miami for the PC Executive Directors' Conference, having eventually arrived on Sunday after leaving here on Friday. She stayed with Nina on Friday night but their flight from Heathrow on Saturday was delayed for hours and eventually cancelled, after they had already boarded it. Between that and the barking cough she finally caught from the rest of us (Angus started the cycle the week before Christmas), she was feeling pretty grotty by the time she arrived but had a walk on the beach yesterday morning and face-timed the boys later in the day.

Marie and Michael arrived on Thursday to help out with the logistics of minding the boys this week. It was Marie's birthday on Friday and Michael's on Sunday. Nana was presented with a cake baked and decorated by Sean. Papa had to make do with some gingerbread offcuts decorated in abstract style by Angus. We had a very muddy walk around the Cammo estate on Saturday morning. Both Angus and Rowan had to be lifted out of their boots at different points in the walk, having literally become bogged down.

The Christmas decorations came down on Sunday, with the tree dumped at the Klondyke Garden Centre. As in the Julia Donaldson book, the house feels less of a squash and a squeeze once the extra clutter is removed.

Dubai days one and two

Many's the time I've castigated the England cricket team (and other sporting emissaries from the UK on fruitless trips abroad) for their poor performance in locations such as Sri Lanka and India and Australia, unaware of just quite how debilitating it is to walk, let alone attempt to play sport at a high level, in 40-degree heat with a touch of humidity thrown in.

Well now I know. It has been incredibly hot here in the UAE, to the extent that doing nothing, or at the very least doing something in the safer and cooler confines of an air-conditioned interior, is the preferred option. We arrived after an extremely comfortably overnight Emirates flight from Heathrow (but with a minimum of sleep) and were processed through the first of many brand, spanking new buildings at Dubai Airport. The first taste of heat, at 0730, was as we left the terminal and moved to the coach for the transfer to the Madinat Mina A'Salam Hotel, part of the Jumeirah resort, looking out to the distinctive sail-like structure of the Burj Al Arab Hotel, the definitive landmark of Dubai tourism.

The drive from the airport along the Sheikh Zayed Road took us past the fabulous towers lining that 12-lane highway: tall, narrow structures fronted with tinted glass and subtle variations in angles and skeletal infrastructure but all dwarfing the street-level life that scurried around their roots. The unbelievable dimension of the world's tallest man made structure, the Burj Khalifa, rose behind them like some science-fiction space-port, growing ever narrower and climaxing in a needle-like mast that pierced the clouds some 828 metres above sea level.

More mundanely, we breakfasted by the channel that circumnavigates the Madinat hotels, realising how hot the day was becoming. Our rooms weren't ready till the afternoon, so we killed the time on the beach, sweltering under shades and trying to sleep without waking up roasted. "Ye's'll be like rashers," our Cork air-stewardess had pronounced succintly on the flight over. I dozed and sweated and got grumpy. Sharon just dozed and sweated. Some swam in the sea, which was a bit like swimming in warm soup on subsequent days but quite refreshing on this first day, exhilirating in the pounding surf. I didn't swim. I didn't want to even move. I got burnt in the few minutes heading to the toilet from the shade and the sand was liable to singe the flesh on your feet.

Eventually we got our room keys and moved tot he sanctuary of air-conditioned five-star hotel life. It was some 20 degrees cooler in the rooms. Opening the doors to the balcony was like opening an oven door, a thick stew of Arabian air challenging the cold air of the room. However, we didn't stay there for long (and besides, the hotel had misplaced our luggage) so we took a taxi with Anne-Marie to the Mall of the Emirates, the smaller of Dubai's vast shopping malls, to the Carrefour supermarket. Sharon was conscious of being underdressed (due to our luggage misplacement) having moved from private beach to public retail outlet and received a few disapproving looks from the white-clad Emiratis. As ever, the supermarket had a splendid selection of fruit and veg but elsewhere the mall displayed some very familiar names: from Next to Debenhams! Once loaded up with snacks and mixers, we queued for a taxi back to the hotel.

Our luggage finally appeared. After a brief rest, we dressed for the reception dinner. Despite the sun having gone down around 7pm, the air was no cooler. We crossed the road in front of the hotel entrance to the Fort area which was reminiscent of a Legoland Arabian-themed area set in a very warm climate. It's no use pining for authentic, quaint, original buildings in Dubai - the oldest structure in the city is reputedly 32 years old. The roll call of achievers was run through, with Hannah the top points earner and Tracy, another of Sharon's downline and a first time trip achiever, second. There was the usual exhortations to bigger and better things next year and then we attacked the buffet. Fortunately I was on water (and have been for some time, owing to the prevalance of gout attacks) as to drink alcohol in such temperatures would be to invite illness, in my view. Sharon didn't quite see it that way. In Dubai you cannot buy alcohol outside of hotels. There are no off-licences nor non-hotel bars as such, hence everyone had arrived with a healthy quota of duty-free purchases as the only places to drink were in hotel bars and restaurants or in private.

We had a great sleep in our vast bed. The air-conditioning was reasonably quiet and the temperature control was spot on. We met others down in the Mina A'Salam for breakfast then got on an abra, a small wooden boat holding about 8 passengers, for a tour of the resort. There are wonderful villas and gardens in our section of the Jumeirah resort, as well as two Hotels, the Mina A'Salam and the Al Qasr, a souk (market) and anywhere between 29 and 42 restaurants, according to the literature.

We alighted at the Madinat souk and once more escaped indoors. The high, vaulted ceilings of the interior meant the winding marketplace was pleasantly cool but I was still feeling rather worn out so I retired to the hotel room after a brief browse around the shops. Sharon went on and had a salad lunch. I dozed. Our next appointment was the "Old" Dubai tour, leaving the hotel at 3.15pm. We crossed the Dubai Creek to the older part of town, to the Gold Souk. Here we entered the darkened, L-shaped market where upwards of fifty jewellers and goldsmiths sell some of the 20% or so of the world's gold that is traded through Dubai. Many hawkers, vast choice of jewellry, no women to be seen; only men. To be honest, there is so much stuff it would be impossible to browse, even if you had the time, which we did not, being marched through at a fair lick. You really would have to know what you were looking for. The Gold Souk sells 18, 21 and 22-carat gold, the last being unusual and generally not to Western tastes, as it looks more yellow and "fake" than the paler, lower carat gold preferred by Europeans.

We moved on to the Spice Souk next which was more to our liking. Again, a couple of dark alleys full of shops with sacks of spices and dried fruits and herbs, a wonderful aroma filling the narrow lane. There were wonderful dried, black lemons which, when puncutured, released a deep citrus scent. We didn't get far before Sharon was in and conversing with a salesman who fairly shovelled the curry powder and vanilla pods into bags. A little obligatory bartering, which Sharon loves and which I, of course, can't stand, and then we were on our way. Another short walk in the afternoon heat and then we were on an abra across the creek. The short journey to the other bank and slightly down-creek was reminiscent of what I'd imagine Venice (the destination for next year's trip) to be like. From there we made our way past shuttered shops, Friday being the holy day and many places closing up, up to the Dubai Museum. At first sight this was a paltry offering, but moving down from the sun-bleached open-air entrance arena to the darker, cooler interior shifted the level of interest, although parts were too dark to actually see in. It was a bit like Ailwee Cave in County Clare! The last port of call was a restaurant called "local restaurant" or something similar, that sold camel burgers. None of that for us, but a refreshing drink and chance to lounge about in cool rooms on rugs and have a chat. Eventually some ice-cream which may or may not have been made from camel's milk did arrive. It was a very relaxing hour or so.

From there it was back to the hotel and a quick turnaround to get in taxis and head back towards Downtown Dubai, to a restaurant called Fazaris at a hotel called The Address. Unfortunately our taxi driver wasn't quite sure where he was headed and a massive traffic jam caused by the breaking at the end-of-the-holy-day delayed us from getting to the restuarant in time for the booking. This wasn't a problem however, and we made our way through the very stylish hotel to meet up with the others, including Pete and Tracy who had booked the meal.

It was good to see the pair of them, ex-pats now based in Sharjah, looking in fine fettle. The food was good and the added bonus was a middle distance view of the fountain show at the foot of the all-conquering Burj Khalifa, towering above us into the hazy night sky, the ultimate statement of manmade Dubai City. Sharon enjoyed sashimi and a Goan prawn curry, while I had tomato soup and lamb rogan josh. Afterwards we returned to the Mina A'Salam, me to bed and Sharon to someone's room for a late snifter. A busy couple of days!

Driving Miss Proudfoot

Sharon's new name ought to be Sharon Proudfoot. She's very pleased with the results of the operation now that the bandages have come off. Day by day she's finding it a bit easier to manage about and the crutches have now taken up permanent residence behind the living room door (when Angus and Rowan aren't running through the house using them as guns).

Sharon is not quite back to driving yet, so I was the nominated driver on Monday night as she did her first show since the operation, out in East Linton. I dropped her off and then went for a swim in Haddington, managing a credible 40 lengths. Slow but sure, I was determined to get past Sean's recent 32 lengths (800m) record. He's since been allowed to stop going to swimming lessons.

It was a cold clear night and I drove up round Traprain Law before parking to get a good look at the dark night skies above East Lothian while listening to the end of the Harry Potter audiobook "The Half-Blood Prince" which has been playing in the car since well before Christmas. There was a great view of Orion and the Plaeides overhead and it was good to have some "me time." I followed it up by a glass of cider and a read of my book by the roaring fire in the East Linton Hotel until Sharon was ready to be collected. An unusual but very enjoyable Monday evening.

I reprised my taxi role last night, this time heading through to East Kilbride. I was shown to the front room while Sharon did the job in the kitchen-dining area. It was a bitter night with frozen snow rutting the roads of EK and the M8 sparkling icily on the drive home.

The boys tucked into haggies, neeps and tatties on Tuesday night, in honour of Robert Burns. Finn and Rowan helped prepare the veg. I never have got round to finding somewhere that does gluten-free haggis. Maybe next year!

Leaving Las Vegas

Sharon will shortly be leaving Las Vegas, hopefully not dressed in an Elvis jump suit and parachuting from a plane. We've all missed her this week. She's been away on a Pampered Chef Exec Conference at Caesar's Palace and it sounds like it has been fairly intense. Throw in the jet lag and missing her boys and it makes for a hard week. I've had Michael over to help with the logistics of multiple drop-offs and pick-ups which has meant I've only had to take one afternoon off, for swimming lessons on Tuesday. However, as the sole point man it's been hard work preparing the never-ending smorgasboard of food consumed in the Wallace household and dealing with the nocturnal visits and shouts.

We stopped lifting Finn just before his birthday and he's been doing well - until last night. Hopefully that was just a blip. Angus has been regularly waking well before 0700 and usually triggering Rowan to get up and start to make noise and fuss, especially when his more diligent big brothers send him back to bed because it;s not wake-up time. Rowan reacts to this with his usual good grace; the keening cry and head thrown back and shouting and stomping just to make sure that anyone who had somehow not been disturbed by him and Angus was well and truly awake.

By and large the boys have been fine. Rowan is delighted to have his Papa here, picking him up from nursery, and Finn has just been in his usual, antagonistic, heedless mood. Sean, being that bit older now, has felt his mother's absence a bit more than the others. Angus has been a bit cranky going to bed the last couple of nights but that may be due to him coming down with another cold.

Tonight, as I went to retrieve Angus's baby-grow while he bathed, I was aware of his voice sounding different to what it should. The acoustics were wrong. And there he was, strolling past me in the hall. He had somehow got himself out of the bath. I certainly hadn't heard any clatter and there didn't appear to be excess water on the floor, so how he made a relatively graceful exit from the bath remains a mystery. No-one lifted him out, that's for sure. One of his nappies yesterday had a plum stone in it. That was a consequence of Michael getting to him too late the day before in the garden, before Angus had wolfed down one of the plums off the tree. He's also a devil for throwing things at the moment. Sean had his glasses whipped off and hurled across the living room earlier in the week. And last week I had the sand from my sandal tipped on me as I lay in bed in the morning. He has all the makings of a tyke, that lad.

Athens Days 3 to 5

We were able to take things a little easier on the Saturday, rising for breakfast in the airy restaurant overlooking the sea in our own good time. The remarkable thing, when you are used to Rowan's voice cutting through the morning air like nails down a blackboard, is the quietness when you wake up. No thumping on the floor above, no doors being closed or opened by the shove method, no arguments over toys or requests to be fed.

Sharon has been keeping up a good training regime of late and visited the gym today while I went for a walk into the nearest conurbation with Gavin. It's about twenty minutes, past the less exclusive, but still pay-entry, beaches and lidos. As with many parts of Greece, the modern architecture has little sympathy for the old, with a fondness for leaving concrete roofs/floors unfinished with rusting steel struts exposed, ready to take the next level should the owner feel inclined or financially able to complete the job. The current dire economic situation affecting us all has hit Greece particularly badly, but fortunately they seem to be keeping the strikes and anarchy to midweek, away from the tourists.

Lunch and the afternoon were fairly haphazard affairs, making up sandwiches from the previous day's leftovers and lazing around on sunbeds and reading before getting dressed up for the evening's formal dinner. With the Scottish men in kilts (it was a tad warm) and the ladies very swishly dressed, we boarded the coach for a drive into Athens, about all we saw of the actual city itself. It would have been nicer to have been a bit closer to the sights and therefore had more of an inclination to visit the likes of the Acropolis but we've had such a busy time of it lately that we felt more like chilling out back at the hotel.

Our dinner was at the Zappeion Palace, a relatively new (140 years old) venue, crouched at the top of a low rise beyond a fountain. A tongue of red carpet was unrolled down the steps and across the esplanade, bounded by drummers welcoming us on the approach. Beyond the ante-room, the interior was like a mini-Colosseum; a roofless circular venue bounded by colonnaded passeges at ground and upper levels. The tables were set out in this courtyard. Fortunately there was no sign of rain!

The setting and food were most enjoyable and, as darkness fell, were followed by a brief cabaret of semi-traditional music; less balalika, more electric violin. There was the usual mobbing of the small dance area and the small bar, then we returned to the coaches for the drive back. We congregated in the Cairns' room, admiring their bath with the view of the beach below!

Our final full day, the Sunday, followed a similar lazy pattern to the Saturday, with the exception of seeing off the Level 1 and 2 achievers. I walked up the road to the end of the peninsula on which the Arion resort is situated but there was little to see other than a crumbling Heliport on the rocks and a view back to a partially built extension to the resort.

In the evening we met up in the Wilsons' room, once more plundering the free food and drink from our private lounge area en route and avoiding the Germany v England World Cup last 16 game that was being watched by the German achievers (present with the UK achievers for the first time) alongside a few of the English. Increasingly few, as Germnay stuffed them 4-1!

Our destination for dinner was a private house called "The Island", a little way along the coast road to the east. It was an airy, contemporary place looking out to the sea, with a letterbox pool and patio area on which we partook of dinner. As the sun set and a light drizzle came on we duly retired to the leather couches for post-prandial drinks; a very relaxing end to the trip.

Monday was mundane. Packing, bussing and checking in to fly back to Heathrow and thence to Edinburgh, with only a tasty stop at Wagamama's in Heathrow to raise the mood. Overall, the trip maybe wasn't quite as exciting as previous ones, but that's to be expected as the bar has been set high from the likes of Rome and Sharon is more in networking mode than tourist mode. We didn't try to cram in as much as on other trips, favouring the lazy approach, and it certainly was relaxing. I'm in no hurry to get back to changing nappies and feeding the brood!

Athens Days 1 and 2

After our enforced break last year, due to Angus's birth, we were champing at the bit to get back into the Pampered Chef incentive trip fray this year. With Marie and Michael generously flying in as the international babysitters once more (and Michael deciding to paint hall, stairs, landing and downstairs bathroom as an added bonus), Sharon and I were free to fly down to London on the Wednesday evening, meeting Hannah and Gavin and Lesley and Jackie at Edinburgh for the flight down. The Cairns and the Wallaces were staying at the Jury's Inn at Hatton Cross, which necessitated a tube ride there and a taxi back in the morning (£22) as we arose at the ridiculous hour of 0415 for what was supposed to be a 0620 flight. Typically, check-in doesn't open till 0500 so we had to wait for that and then, to compound it, the French air traffic controllers went on strike, leaving us sitting on the runway for 90 minutes. Still, at least there was no volcanic activity this time!

On arrival at Athens we eventually located the coach and were driven to the Astir Palace Resort in the Vouliagmeni district of Athens, to the south of the city on the "Athens Riviera." The achievers were split across two hotels: the Westin for the Level 1 and 2 achievers and the Arion for the Level 3 achievers. Our top-floor room was fine and comfortable, although with a view across the car park to the marina to the south-east rather than of the more appealing private beach-front to the north west. Just spoiled by Sharon winning the suite twice!

Sharon located the gym in the Arion for a work-out to keep her new mean figure in shape while I sweated a twenty minute walk into Vouliagmeni in search of a supermarket. Food labelling was a challenge in the Greek alphabet! I had to stick to what I knew else depend on an English label. We entertained the Cairns, McLeishes and Wilsons in our room before strolling up to the Westin for the first night's dinner and recognition by the pool. The wine flowed freely and everyone followed suit as we enjoyed an excellent selection of dishes from the buffet. I didn't get to try all that I fancied as I was too full. Sharon was recognised as being an Executive Director and for being joint top in developing directors. She is now part of the Pampered Chef elite and elicits excited whispers when she favours someone with a word or a nod! I can remember when Sharon was like that on the first trip, delighted to be speaking to those whose names and words she had read in the KCN! All credit to her: she has listened and learned, worked hard and applied her own abilities to make her business a success.

We could both have slept longer in the morning but it was a treat to be able to wake up, check the time and doze off again without any wails, yells, thumps or demands that we make breakfast. However, we did have a embarkation time for the Friday boat trip so we had a quick breakfast before nipping up to the Westin from which our private cruise ship was departing for the island of Hydra. The journey time of 2.5 hours was a little longer than most of us would have liked, but it did afford the opportunity for those who wanted to network and catch up to do so, while the rest of us chatted or lay in the sun or the shade and dozed.

Hydra town's natural harbour is like a notch in the middle of the island's north coastal cliffs, so the entrance was quite splendid, the houses and shops crammed up the steep slopes of the small bay. There were plenty of donkeys (and the odd truck), there being no motor cars, allegedly, on the island. We strolled up a few quiet streets with white-washed houses and returned to the more flagrantly tourist outlets before taking our place for lunch. The wine on offer was very curious, leaving no taste on the tongue but plenty round the sides of the mouth. Jane said the nose reminded her of patchouli oil, which is not something you'd want to be drinking. That said, the Greek salad and fried fish and broad bean curd and pitta breads all went down well, with many of the group happy to sleep away the afternoon on the return leg of the boat trip.

In the evening, at my suggestion, Sharon rounded up a few of the Scottish contingent for a picnic down by the water, despite Philip's latent hotelier's sense of unease about guests being allowed to consume food and alcohol on the premises. All in all it was a pleasantly relaxing evening, drinking wine and nibbling on stuffed vine leaves, tzatziki, aubergine dip, ham, smoked salmon and cheeses; chatting as the sun slipped down towards the sea. And we had the luxury of a long lie in in the morning.

Flying high

Rowan was sick last week for the first time that we can recall. Colds and chesty coughs, yes, but vomting, no. He's been off his food for a few days but seems to be regaining his appetite now. Whatever he had he must have passed on to Finn who threw up on Thursday night, fortunately just after I'd got him up for his wee so he was able to return to the bathroom rather than make a mess of his bed.

With swine flu predicted to reach epidemic proportions, we had our concerns when it turned out a girl who had been cuddling Angus last week was subsequently diagnosed as having swine flu. He doesn't seem to have developed any symptoms although his features are a tad porcine, the rate at which he's fattening up.

There was no sickness or tears on the flight to Dublin on Saturday morning, as I roused Sean, Finn and Rowan at 0600 and marshalled them into a taxi (Edina cabs - good service and rate!) and through the airport. Sitting on the tarmac for 30 minutes was a bit tedious as Rowan doesn't do sitting still with a seat-belt on, but we got to Ireland without mishap, despite Sean and Finn being initially apprehensive about flying. Both were fine. Michael met us and we were whisked down to Athlone in record time, the new road shaving a good 45 minutes off the trip. Rowan was a bit tired and irritable (shouting "I want to go to my house!" ad infinitum) but the appearance of Edel and Adrian soon livened the boys up.

Sharon had her big moment at the conference, delivering the closing motivational speech to around 770 delegates. Despite early nerves where she thought she was going to snap the podium through gripping it too tightly, she came good and got a standing ovation at the end with many people suitably inspired and telling her as much afterwards. She didn't have time to bask in the glory though, having to head off to Holyhead to catch the boat to Dublin, negotiating various thunderstorms en route. She arrived in Dublin Port at 0100 and Athlone at 0230 so she is a little tired today to say the least. Angus travelled well and will be the first Wallace boy, at only seven weeks, to notch up a complete set of Scotland, England, Wales, Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland. I think I was 35 before I ticked Wales off my list and that was only an afternoon playing cricket just across the border from Chester!