What did you gain this summer?

I could of course be talking about highbrow things – new languages, knowledge, experiences – but, being a Dubai expat who spent five weeks in the land of tea rooms, the M&S food hall and pub grub, the only summer gain I’m really talking about is weight.

As one who watches her weight all year round in a mindful sort of “I’ll have an Americano [20cals] not a skinny cappuccino [75cals]” way, the UK is a disaster. I can resist neither the pub lunches nor Café Rouge, let alone a Pomodora Pesto Leggera at Pizza Express with a bottle of Chianti (hell I’m on holiday).

The Pizza Express Pomodoro pesto leggera – it’s full of salad so it’s good for you, right?

But hey, I was 2.5kgs underweight before I left, so I had room to spare – right?

Wrong. If you’ve no idea how much damage you can do to your waistline in five weeks of bad eating and drinking, I refer you kindly to this article in the Daily Wail in which a skinny-minny nutritionist ate “like a normal woman” for a week and put on, like, a tonne. So it’s not surprising, then, to see on my return that a) my new white jeans – bought in week 1 – won’t do up b) None of my old clothes fit me and c) I’ve gained 3.5kgs in five weeks.

Here’s how:

Old Dubai diet
Breakfast: Low-fat yoghurt, fresh grapes/berries and a spoonful of oat granola.

Lunch: Miso soup with Udon noodles (85 cals and surprisingly filling).

Snack: Water. Cup of tea. More water. Tomato juice.

Dinner: Homemade vegetable curry.

Holiday diet:

Breakfast: Doorstop of home-baked toasted bread with butter and marmalade. Croissant with marmalade.

Morning coffee: Two Digestives snuffled before the kids saw.

Lunch: Two deep-fried Café Rouge fishcakes with fries and salad; pint of beer (or two large glasses of wine).

Afternoon tea: Kipling cakes a-plenty.

Pre-dinner: Gin & tonic (cheers mum!), bag of crisps. Extra crisps stolen from mum. Glass of pre-dinner red wine (just to taste). And maybe another one.

Dinner: Anything from pub grub to Pizza Express with half a bottle of red wine.

Surprised the size 10 jeans don’t fit any more? Not really. But, good god, was it fun.

Why is everyone looking at me?

So I walked to the local station today, to take a train to London. It’s a walk I did countless times over countless years before moving to Dubai and, honestly, it brought back so many memories.

But, as I clopped along the pavement in my cowboy boots, I noticed all the other commuters and pedestrians were giving me a double-take.

I couldn’t think why. Maybe I was at school with them (always a risk when you’re in the town in which you grew up). But no, not that.

Maybe it was my hair. I dyed it “medium brown” yesterday and it actually turned out black – it looks odd to those who know me as a beach blonde, but, really, strangers wouldn’t notice that, I mused, as I marched towards the 9.31 train.

What could it be?

My outfit for summer in the UK. While everyone else is in shorts.

 

I didn’t think I looked odd at all. I was wearing a very classic outfit: Jeans, a blue and white sweater, a turquoise pashmina, a beige raincoat, cowboy boots, big sunglasses… yeah, my hand bag was particularly nice and I have a bit of a Mediterranean tan – but was that enough for the double-takes? Surely not.

And then, as the fifth person I passed gave me a strange look, I realised what it was.

As I was bundled up for winter, everyone else was wearing shorts, vests and flip-flops. It was 17 degrees. God bless England.