You say hello, I say Dubai

Another month has darted past, tail feathers sticking up and sashaying off into the distance. It’s been a mixed one – none of the late summer narcissism of September’s hedonistic timetable and just a touch of wintry pubbiness. My writing seems to have slipped backwards whilst my mind hums and whirrs, plotting and planning the not too distant future. As cold, long nights creep up, visions of sunkissed skin, warmth and beaches seep into the most mundane errands – a move towards the equator feels more necessary than ever.

But there’s something so deliciously comforting about being holed up in a pub for hours, drinking red wine and enjoying simple pleasures that makes the onset of winter actually quite a pleasing time. I know there’s more to winter than pubs, but they are so integral, so homely and so unique in their British ubiquity that they are the one thing expats always mention when asked what they miss most about home. Especially as you can’t get away with lazing around in a pub, drinking, debasing politicians, mocking economists and flirting with the opposite sex in so many exotic, far-flung outposts – and, scarier, in many new ‘global hubs’.

The pithy little epithet ‘Shanghai, Mumbai, Dubai or Goodbye’ has never rung truer, yet – in the case of Dubai - the thought of spending a warm winter in a land of dusty building sites, clogged roads, unbuilt pavements, alcohol illegality and no tolerance towards public displays of affection is not a comforting, duvety one. These relatively minor cons are far outweighed by the the shocking (and scarily underacknowledged) fact that corporal punishment still goes on just down the road. I won’t forget, during my time in Abu Dhabi, the chilling public notices published in the newspaper, declaring Sharjah stonings and the minor crimes for which they were doled out. And Sharjah is by no means far-flung – the unrelenting pace of construction in the Emirates means that Sharjah has effectivley become a suburb of Dubai.

So, whilst hungry bees head to oily honeypots and ‘bright young things’ lounge in the winter sun, my experiences of the Middle East – utterly edifying and fascinating as they were – mean that the novelty of enjoying a pint with my boyfriend in a simple, warm pub in the most liberal – albeit suffering -country I have ever known won’t wear off for a while.

Ex Marine races against time on trek to ski the length of Norway

A former Royal Marine who planned to cross-country ski the length of Norway by April is two months behind schedule. The epic trek is taking Dave Leaning across over 2600km of tundra and ends at Europe’s most northerly tip, Nordkapp, 500km into the Arctic Circle.No stranger to extreme conditions, Dave, 28, has served on the front line in Afghanistan. Swapping sand for snow, the trek has been an enormous challenge.Severe storms, disorientating ‘whiteouts’ and injuries have added to the journey. Now Dave is up against a growing pressure – to chase the snow before the spring thaw.

Relying upon the kindness of strangers, the Reading resident has had to seek refuge and warmth from locals along the way, most of whom have never heard of anyone attempting a similar expedition. Their generosity, Dave says, has got him through some of the tougher times – and he’s only just half-way.

Having lost comrades to landmines, Dave is raising money for the Mines Advisory Group, an international mine clearance charity.

Read Dave’s diary, watch film clips and track his progress at www.skinorway.org.uk.