Sunshine in fruit gums

One of the things that I have found really quite challenging in being so far away from home is the ever present guilt at not being there. It’s the little things like helping family with childcare or ‘knowing’, perhaps more apt, ‘thinking’ that you can make a difference if only you were there.

Sometimes, however, sometimes you must admit that you are powerless – some things you just can’t help with or change. Sometimes it just takes a phone call and suddenly everything changes.

11^th March – The Week that Sally Died

It’s been a while, a week at least, and I am sorry that work has kept me from my blog. Although in other ways I am glad. Work has been creative, adventurous, colourful and inspiring; all the things that my good friend Sally-Ann Hitchcock was. I’m afraid that this one will be a little sad but I hope a fitting tribute to a person that truly was, in every way, simply sunshine. She said she loved reading my blogs, that they made her laugh and under no circumstances was I to stop… So:

When I left for Dubai nearly six years ago now, I stood in the queue at the Emirates desk, eyes aching from saying goodbye; concern weighing in the pit of my stomach that the baggage I was carrying was vastly overweight, and a strange lightness in my head at the prospect that I knew not what Dubai was like. Or even whether the people were more likely to stone me than greet me. Such pondering aside, I happened to notice a couple, heads bent together they whispered and nodded towards me. I assumed they had noticed the sadness and trepidation that was clearly displayed on my face and were merely kind hearted folk concerned for that short, sticky faced person in the queue behind them. John and Valerie Hitchcock were shushed by their embarrassed daughter and reinstated standing in order, naughty pair!
Ironically, although my assumption was a tad offset, I was correct that this mischievous two were talking about me. They had in fact suggested to Sally that I was probably going to the same place as her to teach: a preposterous suggestion! Again they were shushed! I even now imagine an apologetic glance in my direction. Distracted now by the fact that the lady at the check-in counter paid no heed to my tears or pleading, my case was deemed far too heavy and a trip to another counter meant that I quite forgot these people who had pointed me out in the queue.
My journey was further complicated by the fact that the TV in my seat was broken. I would have to move: brilliant, just frickin’ brilliant! However, this seat change, this random fated adaption to my already bumpy plan, was to be one that I will always be grateful for. Smiling politely at the lady beside me, I prayed she wasn’t a talker: I was far to intent on indulging my sadness at having just left my family and friends in London to talk to a stranger. I might even make myself feel even worse by watching a sad movie and drinking gin.

She was a talker. Oh she was. And so, it would seem, was I.

‘So, are you going on holiday?’
‘No’, I’m moving here to work. You?’
‘Oh, me too!’
‘What do you do?’
‘I’m a teacher’
‘Oh, me too!’
A succession of ‘me too’s and ‘no way’s later and we had established that not only were we both moving to Dubai to teach but that we were heading for the same school, the same subject and the same accommodation. Happy coincidence! It was too much to bear! Bugger the gin, bugger the sad movie, bring out the champagne and let’s get this Dubai gig started. And we did.
My first night in Dubai was spent atop a plastic coated sofa in an otherwise empty flat drinking champagne with Sally-Ann Hitchcock. Many more bottles, a car share, an adventure filled three years and subsequent London trips later, I considered, and still do, Sally to be one of the best people I have ever met. I thank the stars for putting me next to her on that flight and thank her, as one of them now, for being her; for all of the things that it will take too long to mention here but that I will always treasure.
I used to inwardly scorn those who used Facebook as a means to talk about the death of loved ones, thinking that it was not the right platform and that it was self-indulgent and unnecessary. I’m sorry for that now. Sally used Facebook all the way through her sickness and as such kept those who loved her informed and entertained right up until her last few days. People should read her blog and be inspired as we all have been by such a courageous lady whom I admire and who made me laugh always.

I don’t want anyone at home to worry about me over here. I am fine, there are people here who worked with Sally in Dubai and will take good care of me. One old colleague has already accidentally walked into a glass wall which has brightened my day wonderfully.
I won’t pretend that there was not something far more significant in watching the sunrise this morning or that the kids singing downstairs sent my heart plummeting and heavy tears leak. I will not pretend that I was not distracted when I shampooed my hair three times this morning because I was. I will not pretend that the thought of coming back to London and not seeing our Sally is something that I am not quite ready to face yet. But I will make sure that when my hair is uber silky and flying all over the place, Sally’s lighthearted sunny personality will be in my mind, her probably laughing. And, I will make sure that at work today when we have acting, creating, drawing and singing, those things that Sally loved, I will enjoy them and celebrate them all with extra verve.
A visitor to work brought me some Fruit Gums from the UK this week. A perfect tribute today would be to drink a really expensive bottle of Champagne in Sally’s honour. As being plastered, singing and tabletop dancing in school would obviously be highly inappropriate, I shall have my Fruit Gums instead and with every sweet, colourful, fruity little mouthful, I’ll do a cheers to you, Sal. I love you and I’ll miss you.
I think I’ll start with a green one.