Letter from Dubai

So, I've been here for five days. Here is Dubai, in case you hadn't caught that, or are sufficiently unaware of my depressing absence from the world of all thonfs Sanctimonious, that you missed me mentioning this. Actually, last week is still this week for me, because the weeks have merged together as one, thanks to the interesting difference in weeks between here and there (decide for yourselves what the concepts of "Here" and "There" mean in terms of the Global Village) (Actually, as the Global Village is a development in Dubai, as is the Internet Village and, for that matter, The World).

What's it like here? Hot. Relative to Manchester, anyway. 38C this week. I'm drinking lots of water.

And in the evening, I'm drinking lots of beer. My colleagues are old hands in the oil business, and boy, do they drink in the evenings. We have an early start in the mornings, so that we can get in a good number of hours crawling all over the platform before it gets too unbearable: so our working day is 07:30 to 15:30 on the platform and then a few hours in the afternoon, before the beers come into play at 18:00. Then, we can spend three hours or more deciding where we are going to eat, before eventually agreeing that what we really need is more beer; after the four to six pints that allowed us to come to this position. Also, we pass comment on the female customers in the bar, what we think of their attire, what we fancy doing to them and what we think they'd be prepared to do for how much.

OK, so it's not actually me saying these things. The team is made up of old hands in the oil business, and somewhat "unreformed". But is it good enough that I say nothing? Should I be telling them that their attitude to women, developing countries and, yes, disabled people ("We need midgets with long arms, like that small chap in the lobby") is abhorrent? Probably. But would that achieve anything? They're not actually bad people, just set in their ways. And let's face it, there are plenty of people around who are willing to cosy up to a splash of cash. Not appropriate, maybe; but true nonetheless. And, they're all married men, who are (almost certainly) talking the big talk, while still phoning their wives every evening from the safety of their hotel rooms.

Anyway, I say nothing. I laugh at their bad innuendo jokes, but I am amazed at their ability to function after many pints and a very few hours sleep.

Well, there are may more platforms to be reviewed, in Malta, Korea, and not forgetting Lowestoft. Maybe I can get to work on their souls on future visits. Or maybe I need t examine my own now.