Money, money, money

I have decided that the point of being rich is not how many designer handbags you can buy, although of course that is a perk, but that it makes your life much easier in many ways.

If you are rich, you can employ someone to do all those things that make your life tedious, like deleting the spam comments on your blog, or getting the internet connection at home fixed, or organising your annual car insurance or calling the plumber.

This may not be a mind-blowing revelation, but I have come to realise that we may never be able to leave Abu Dhabi because to a much lesser extent we have that here.

As I write my driver is collecting the home entertainment system box we have had mended. My housemaid or ‘bonne‘ as the French rather more charmingly call them, is buying vegetables in the supermarket to cook our lunch with. I am at work, relaxed and zen, even though it is press day.

The thought of going back to a life where it was just me doing all that stuff is horrible. I just can’t imagine it. In fact it’s a miracle I am as well-balanced as I am after 25 years of ironing.

My mother finally arrived this morning after a week’s delay thanks to the unpronounceable volcano. It is so lovely to see her. I just called to see if they are all OK.

“We can’t do anything right now, because we are playing luxury hotels and Mormor (granny in Swedish) is playing with us and is going to have a luxury suite,” Olivia told me.

So you see, we don’t need to be rich at all, we have everything we could possible need anyway.

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2010

Those wild New Yorkers….

Despite my new high-powered role I still have time to watch films and TV shows on my bed with the girls. The other night we watched Vicky Christina Barcelona. A great film and how beautiful is Scarlett? Luminously beautiful I thought.

“Did you see,” asked Olivia afterwards, “that all three of them kissed and went to bed together?”

“I did,” I replied, trying to sound casual, slightly mortified that she had noticed. “Most unusual, wasn’t it?”

“It’s called triplets,” she explained confidently. “It happens a lot in New York.”

So now I know……

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2010

Miss Dep-Ed

When I took on the job of staff writer at The National, I thought I would never want to do anything else. It seemed a perfect role; roaming around asking questions and not having any real responsibility. I hadn’t worked as an editor since I edited a magazine called Central European for Euromoney many years ago. The only person I edited was Rupert; not that he needs it.

All this has now changed. Mo, my friend and deputy editor of the magazine, was promoted a few weeks ago. I put myself forward for her job and was asked to do a trial. I found editing enormous fun. And what is even more fun is coming up with good ideas that you then don’t have to write, and having some say in how the magazine is run.

From not really wanting to be an editor, I suddenly wanted it more than I had wanted anything in a long time. I worked hard, tried to make things run smoothly and made an effort to learn all I needed to. I had an interview with Rachel the editor.

D-day came on Sunday. I was a bag of nerves. Rachel went in to see the big editor. When she came back she took the other leading candidate outside for a chat.

‘Is that good or bad?’ I texted Rupes.
‘Good,’ he replied.

I could barely breathe. I had a Yogi tea to calm my nerves. ‘For every loss,’ read the message, ‘there is an equal gain’. I’m doomed, I thought, it’s a sign. ‘For every gain,’ it went on, ‘there is an equal loss.’ OK so whatever happens I’m doomed.

After what seemed like a year Rachel came back and took me outside. My heart was beating so fast I was sure she would be able to hear it. We stood opposite each other.

“I’d like to offer you the job of deputy editor,” she said. I threw my arms around her. Possibly not the most traditional response, but she took it well.

So now I am planning ideas to commission. I am onto a piece drawing on our correspondents from the region about women to watch in the Middle East.

I am a very happy ‘dep-ed’ as Rupes calls me. Story ideas welcome…..

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2010

What’s new pussycat?

Friday night I went to see Tom Jones in concert. For those of you who have not heard of him, he is 69 years old and has been belting out hits like ‘What’s New Pussycat?’ and ‘It’s not Unusual’ for around 50 years. He is not someone I have hankered to see, but he was here in Abu Dhabi and he is a legend so I thought it would be worth popping along.

It was incredible. His voice filled the whole auditorium. He has an energy and a strength men half his age lack. Totally magical. I’m not surprised women have been throwing their knickers at him since 1950.

After the concert Rupes and I went for dinner with some friends. We had a riot, lots of banter and nice wine. They then went on to the bar at the Emirates Palace Hotel. It was 1am by then and, being a sensible gal, I thought it would be better to head home.

I slept badly and woke up to an email from one of the dinner gang. They had sat with Tom and his band (who used to be the band for Girls Aloud) singing Delilah and more until the wee hours.

Tonight we are off to the opera, and if anyone asks me to join them after it for anything at all, I am blooming well going….

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2010

Classic Bea

This girl will go far; note the subtle but lethal combination of bribery and playing on my worst fears in this email asking for a new phone…..

Hey mama,
I know how you said i have to wait 3 to 4 weeks to maybe get that
phone… well i was thinking that if i get that phone sooner then i
will be nice for about 6 moths or 1 year or whatever how long you
want ill do my piano my guitar my chores ( if you give them to me )
anything but i beg you . And think what if i end up alone somewhere
like if i lose you in the airport or train station what will i do ?
even if you say no i will be really (fois 1000) sad i will still love you.
Bye please please think about it i beg..

Here she is on a camel, much more useful than a phone….

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2010

Last week…..

This is getting ridiculous. I have no time to blog. So many things happen that I want to talk about and then suddenly another day has gone by and I haven’t had a chance. So here is a quick summary of recent events…

Most upsetting moment – the Wikileaks video US soldiers shooting civilians (including a journalist) in Iraq. The language they used was so cold and callous. It was like they were playing a video game. Horrible.

Most exciting moment – blind auction of a Sheikha’s vintage handbags at a charity event at the British Embassy. It was extraordinary to see the effect handbags have on women. Especially me. I turned into a predator, prowling around, waiting to pounce on anyone who looked set to outbid me. Happily I had a pro with me, a Lebanese lady called Reem, who was not going to lose the fight.

Most touching moment – last night when Leo made me promise never to marry Mika. “I know he’s quite cute, but daddy is much cleverer and he can play the guitar, I heard him once, and Mika can only play the piano. Daddy is good at singing too.” I didn’t have the heart to tell him Mika would rather marry daddy than me.

Most look into the future moment – shoe shopping with Olivia. She is a natural.

Proudest moment – listening to Bea do a spelling test with my English-teacher friend Justine in the back of the car, getting words right that I have trouble spelling.

Most surprising moment – being stopped at the gates of the Ghantoot Polo event, thinking we were going to be charged to go in and instead being given raffle tickets to win a Maserati. Only in the UAE….

Most disappointing moment – not winning the Maserati.

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2010

Heathcliff comes to Abu Dhabi

So this ex-boyfriend thing has now reached ridiculous heights….not that Heathcliff (as you may remember him from blogs of years ago) was ever my boyfriend. No, he was the first love of my life. I was all of 17 when I met him at Pucci’s Pizzas in Chelsea and I fell in love in the way that only really stupid 16-year-olds can. Naturally he didn’t feel the same way about me, which is lucky, because what is the point of anguished teenage love if it is not anguished? Apparently I was too skinny I heard from a mutual friend years later. Which just goes to disprove the theory that a woman can’t be too thin or a man too rich.

Now he is a famous chocolate-maker, and he is coming to Abu Dhabi to launch his own brand of chocolate. You might even have heard of him, he is called Willie Harcourt-Cooze. He has been on TV and has written books all about chocolate.

Today I am interviewing him for the magazine, on the phone, so the article can come out when he is here at the end of the month. “It seems surreal you interviewing me,” he said in an email yesterday.

Not as surreal as Heathcliff pitching up in Abu Dhabi carrying bars of chocolate….

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2010