The IKEA Haul

As University draws nearer and nearer, enlarging on the horizon, nerves are a reoccurring sensation.

But as every little thing I do to prepare sets in, nothing has hit me more than packing up my whole room and coordinating colours for my new one in University - a space that's going to be considerably smaller and will house my entire world for the year.  

This afternoon we took to IKEA - of course. (Who doesn't end up in IKEA when furnishing their home?) 

We went at 5:30pm - bad choice. If you're familiar with Dubai you'll know how lively the country becomes at night. It's almost part of the culture. No one really goes out until the sun sets. There's no worse place to be on a late weekend afternoon than IKEA. There are literally hundreds of couples and families browsing every section of the store. Finding what you need with a supermarket trolley is easier said than done. 

Nevertheless, 2 hours after we arrived, we'd bought most of the essentials; knives, scissors, a chopping board, a laundry basket, cutlery. Most things. 

It's amazing how much fun choosing essentials can be. 

I've decided upon a red and white theme for the bathroom - a colour scheme I've always always loved. I feel like a new home owner. I don't feel old enough to get picky over the colours in a bathroom!

While I'm an advocate of cheapness, I really enjoy choosing old fashioned and vintage decorations. 

This clock (though you can't see very well) is an original style clock - with two bells on top and a metal ringer to wake me up in the morning. 

So, it's fair to say that I'm really really happy with the afternoon's work - walking round with my little list whilst piling various items into the trolley, then removing them after having looked at the price! 

It's weird how by putting myself right in the centre of it all, I've taken the edge off my nerves! 

Arboretum Restaurant, Al Qasr, Dubai

If there's anything that my family loves more than each other, it's quite possibly food. I know that in this fact we're not alone. 

To celebrate the results of my brother and I in our GCSEs and A Levels, my parents took the whole family out, last night, to Al Qasr in Madinat to the international buffet restaurant. It was ABSOLUTELY lovely. 

The scenery was really really beautiful! The Madinat is a really nice place to be at night and its one of my favourite places to go on a family evening out in the winter because the air is so much cooler. The whole area is lit with soft tree lights and it's so tranquil to hear the hum of the motor dhows as they run passengers up and down the clear blue river. It takes me to a carefree existence and back to the excitement of being a tourist. 

The actual restaurant was really beautiful with fake palm trees dotted around and lights flared around the tables. 

But it was the food, of course, that stole the show. I had to have a little piece of everything but what I enjoyed most was the rare cooked roasted beef and gorgeous crispy potatoes. The starters were delicious as well. Pasta, pizza, salad, sushi, olives, mixed beans, couscous and seasoned cauliflower. 

So after absolutely stuffing myself, it was time for pudding; ice-cream, cheesecake, mousse cake, lemon eclairs, passion fruit and lychee jelly. The works! And of course, no great buffet is complete without a chocolate fountain! 

Taste buds satisfied, pallette tingling, I'd say a job well done.

'I wanna be famous!' - An insight

I made my television debut as a four year old on ITV Meridian in 1999. Catastrophically shy with a straight black bob and flyaway hair sloping in front of my eyes, this was my lasting image - the way I would be seen by thousands of home owners up and down Britain.

"Je m'appelle Lau-rhuh!" I said, into the camera, not much louder than a whisper. 

And that was it. The sound-bite. Shier than shy but what did it matter? I had said my piece and now I was famous. 

Isn't that what everybody wanted? At one point in time. To be famous. A glitzy film career. A job as a life-long singer. An actress.

I know that's what I had once wanted. When I heard the tale of my first 'interview' on TV at a French nursery, I wanted to do that forever. To be on TV. 

But what's that kind of fame when people are homeless? What purpose does a star on Hollywood boulevard serve when wars rip through innumerable countries? What use is seeing your name roll on the end credits of a film when there are children without enough to eat?

I know it's not our fault. Those thoughts and dreams are human nature. And it's not necessarily the majority of people. But how different would the world be if young people these days strove, with everything they owned to be aid workers, scientists or peace leaders? What importance would 'Keeping Up with the Kardashians' be then?

It's just a thought.

I've been writing this post for a couple of days. Every time I've sat down to add to it, my mind has been plagued with Syria. I usually sit in the evenings to write and it's precisely this time that Sky news is on in our house. I could turn it off, but, in a weird way, it seems like a betrayal. Like turning my back. 

So when I sit down, all that seems to radiate is the horror unfolding in the light of the chemical attacks. When I try to think of more things to say to embellish the blog post, anything I pen seems synical. Irrelevant. It seems so sad to me that I can be writing, blogging, publishing posts that have the ability to reach out to thousands of people across the web (across the world) and not even worry about anything else apart from how many people read these words and how that's made them feel. 

There's not much of a point to this post. There's no underlying value I want to share. Just a thought that's manifested over the days. What, however, I do hope is that, today, like me, this post makes you think. Because if that's what it does, then, to my unknown motive, it's done justice. 

Trial and error - Success with an orange cheesecake

I was feeling like cooking yesterday but I didn't know exactly what it was that I wanted to do. When my heart's not in it, anything I make is a good as useless. 

I poured through some of my favourite cookbooks and my mum's too but didn't find anything that made me jump to the cupboard and start measuring flour. 

I looked around the kitchen, my eyes resting on the fruit basket laden with a thousand oranges and a few grapefruit that we're forbidden to eat. Oranges it was then. 

I looked at chocolate orange cakes, orange trifle, orange and cranberry muffins - everything with that word in it but I found nothing. So I resolved to make it up as I go along. 

I grabbed a grater from the drawer and pulled thin ribbons of orange peel off and into a bowl. With the juicer in hand, I squeezed 2 oranges dry then scoured the fridge for what else I could add to this concoction. 

I was adamant that what ever I made was heading straight into the bin but after pouring icing sugar, Philadelphia, whipped cream and gelatin in the bowl, I had a cheesecake filling. I made a base for the dessert (crunching digestives with melted butter) and left it in a loose-bottomed tin over night. 

And this is what I got ... 

A very thin, but otherwise perfectly formed, orange cheesecake complete with a rose design made out of orange peel. 

Whether it tastes any good is still a thought that hangs in the air but nevertheless, if it doesn't taste that good at least it will have been nice to look at! 

Time to move on ...

In a few days I'll be leaving Dubai. A country that has been such a lovely place to spend the last 2 years. It is, because of the memories I have here and the experiences it has given me, one of my favourite places to be. That isn't to say that there aren't parts to life out here that drive me absolutely insane or things that I desperately long for. Back in the UK everyday we used to walk our Cocker Spaniel across the common near our house for an hour and a half, twice a day. I hated it at the time. During the summer, a farmer used to keep his cattle in there. They were huge, horned and would sporadically run after dogs or tearaway puppies (as was ours) or charge, in stampede formation, for a drink at the community trough as though they were on a pub crawl. Every step you took had to be carefully calculated to make sure that you made it round the field before the cows blocked off the exit gate. That's not to mention the joy of walking through the dry, knee high grass in sandals on a blazing hot day and coming home with cow pat splattered up your leg and staining your feet.
In the winter, the field was always a test of character. The common was a series of hills, on top of which you could see all the way to town. Walking at the peak with the infamous British rain blowing through a raucous wind, dog walking became an activity of little enjoyment. It wasn't uncommon to not be able to feel our faces when we arrived home, dripping but thankful that it would be someone else's turn to take the dog later on in the day.
Now, having omitted the colour green from my eyesight since finding my home in the desert, I would give anything to go back to those temperamental bulls in that luscious field. That's something I can't wait to get back to.

If there's anything I'm guilty of, it's thinking too far forward and forgetting to live for the now. As I'm sure I've probably mentioned before I have always thought about having a job and family without thinking about how I would get there. So whilst I am excited to move back to England for a few years, there are so many thing I'll miss about not being in Dubai. I thought I'd write a few below.

Here are some of the many things I'll miss about Dubai!

• My favourite places.

One of my favourite places in Dubai is down by the creek. I absolutely love the feel down there and the different way of life. It's not really a place that gets a lot of credit from tourists so it's a secret retreat for a different perspective of Dubai. We've spent many nights, entertaining guests there, pointing out the lines of fridge freezers, tyres and bags of rice lining the dock that would, in another city, have already been stolen and sold on. It's always an excellent venue to take photos. There's so much activity and lights but one of the bet things to do there is to visit the spice souk. We always cross over and see with our noses, smelling each bright bag of cardamom, chili or dried herbs. 

Another one of my favourite places is Le Royal Meridien hotel. This was the first place we stayed in when we moved out to Dubai and it's the experience that epitomises Dubai for me. The reception hall was so grand and the pools so clean, that it was a world away from any other hotel I had ever stayed in. We only stayed a week though we were desperate to spend more time there. Thankfully, however, we are members of the pools there and occasionally pop down for the day to bask in the sun, swim in a chilled pool and walk the beautiful beach. Its a true day of luxury! 

• My favourite restaurants. 

One of the things I've come to learn is that one cannot simply live in Dubai and not be a fan of food. Every street you turn is lined with every eating establishment from, near on, every main worldly cuisine. Lebanese to Chinese, Indian to Middle Eastern, steaks to fish and cakes to dates. Everything! Absolutely everything! And I suppose that explains why most of the things that I do in my spare time involve booking a table, slipping into a loose skirt and loading my bag with restaurant vouchers. 

Ask me what my favourite restaurant is and, without a second's thought, I'll tell you that it's Kalidescope on The Palm. For me, that's a no-brainer. I think it's main selling point is the variety. It is expensive but with 2 vouchers, for the 5 of us it's well worth the money. A food-loving family, Kalidescope is right up our street. The buffet is HUGE with multiple stations including; sushi, salad, seafood, Indian, Indian vegetarian, Chinese, Italian and British as well as the dessert stand with hot Middle Eastern puddings and cold continental dishes, miniature potted treats (like pannacotta and cheesecake) and a GIANT chocolate fountain with steps leading to the milk chocolate waterfall, a selection of fruits an sweets rounding the base. And then, if you're still hungry, you can help yourself to ice-creams. 

• My favourite time of year.

I love being in Dubai during Eid; the end of the Ramadan fast. The city is so alive and it's such an important time of year for the whole country with events and celebrations that Muslims and non-Muslims alike can enjoy. 

• My favourite time of day.

During the summer, I love waking up early before the sun gets too warm and going out around the city. Even in the early hours the roads are still quite busy but you could walk the back streets and not see a person for at least an hour. In the winter the middle of the day is the best time. Having the ability to tan in the coolest time of year is quite a novelty. 

My home from home

Last night, I took another step closer to solidity; my dad and I accepted my place in the university halls for September. Now that my accommodation has been arranged, I can finally associate my name with the campus as a member of the community.

As daunting as I think moving in will be, particularly leaving on a plane to live in another country away from my parents, I am so glad that I have a place to call mine. I suppose it's like when your parents choose you your name when you're born. It's your defining moment. That word now means something to you. For me, that confirmation has completed my defining moment as I start a new chapter. And I couldn't be happier.

When I first received the notification I couldn't stop smiling. It was the bookshop situation; trying to tell myself that 'It's alright' when I was already past being calmed down for the excitement jangling in my veins.
I couldn't open the email fast enough. It was 10pm. My fingers were shaking. I was desperate to sleep and the thud of a headache I had all day was growing stronger in protest.

"I'll just look and see what it says," I resolved, unable to pry myself away from the addiction of the anticipation.

When I found out that I had been allocated the small halls, my heart began to thump.
No. I thought. I've applied for the wrong place!

I swung the mouse to the internet bar. I typed the entire address and loaded various websites including the search results from Google images.  One of the first comments that came up stated that the small halls were located 2 miles from the campus I would be studying at. I was panicking.
I don't have a car! How am I going to get there? I'll have to leave at 5am just to get to lectures on time!
(It's probably worth noting that I have absolutely no concept of distance or any sense of direction.)

Why is this happening? It was all going so well!
I took to finding consolation on Facebook. There are those moments of anxiety when you're waiting to find out something important on the internet and the page loads so slowly that you find yourself wondering;
Do I really want to know what everyone else is going to say?

I looked on the accommodation group for my allocated halls. I read the reviews.  It seemed as though no one had wanted to be in those halls. They, like me, had just been sent there. But...everyone liked it.

I read, that night, tiredness subsiding, that the halls were more compact and so it was possible and more likely that you would make lasting friends. The community feel was stronger and within easy access of two of the most popular nightclubs, which I read were the main point of being a fresher. The block was also located right by the common, an environment that has now become a top priority for anywhere I stay considering the last 2 years have been spent in a grand sandpit.
The fear began to ebb away. It didn't seem to matter that none of my existing friends hadn't been offered a place to stay there. As far as I was concerned, I was extremely lucky that the university hadn't obeyed my choices. It was as though they already knew the kind of person I was and the choices I made - many of which I wouldn't even trust. Though it was completely different from what I had once wanted, I did still have an ensuite room - the object of all my pursuits and for that I was incredibly thankful.

I really couldn't have asked for more.

So, we only got round to accepting it last night, having been offered it three days ago. But no matter when these things happen, it seems that slowly, and perfectly, everything is falling into place.

50 things you ought to know about me

I guess the best thing to do when you're in a new situation is introduce yourself. Well that's what everyone says, anyway.

So you start; 

"Hi I'm ... And what's your name? Oh really? I used to have a guinea pig with the same name...so..." 

Now what? 

I can see this conversation happening to me very often over the next few weeks as I move on to uni. So, I'd better have something to say. 

This is a sneaky little preview of some of the conversational gems I'll probably get round to using within the first few days. I guess I'd say you're lucky, but if you read most of these, I would quickly withdraw that statement. 

Anyhow, these are just a few things you ought to know about me :) 

Number one: I always thought I had straight hair until I was 16 when I realised it was curly 

Number two: I hate the theme song of the Titanic which is why I will not watch the film 

Number three: the only vehicle I ever want to drive is a moped even though I love classic cars because owning a car is too much responsibility for me 

Number four: I have a MASSIVE obsession with Holby City (a UK medical drama)

Number five: I love the smell of petrol 

Number six: my favourite chocolate bar is Crunchie 

Number seven: when I was 12, despite not being able to sing, I entered a school singing competition with three of my friends and was so embarrassed that I lip synced the words even when it was my solo

Number eight: in high school my favourite sport in PE was benchball

Number nine: when I was fourteen I used to pretend my rabbit was a kangaroo so that I could make a nature documentary about catching kangaroos in Australia

Number ten: I've said 'I love you' more times to my dog than my parents (sorry, guys) 

Number eleven: I used to play the violin 

Number twelve: I would secretly love to become a police women but I know I wouldn't get the job because I'm not scary enough and would probably be hiding round the block if I had to stop anything involving large groups of teenagers

Number thirteen: if I could travel back I time, I would live in 1920's England 

Number fourteen: I could eat prawn sandwiches and pizza for the rest of time 

Number fifteen: I used to swim for the county squad 

Number sixteen: I have never (touch wood) broken or fractured any bone in my body 

Number seventeen: I have only ever lived in four houses 

Number eighteen: I joined the knitting club in year 6

Number nineteen: I have a fetish with the British royal family 

Number twenty: I have written a novel called The Warden based on true events of patient abuse in hospital 

Number twenty one: my favourite dessert is Crème Brûlée 

Number twenty two: my dad says I'm an excellent con artist (which is true) - I once bought 2 dog bowls and a month later had convinced my dad to buy us a dog 

Number twenty three: I love car journeys (I could sit in a car for a whole year and never get bored) 

Number twenty four: I'd like to have 8 children when I'm older because I think big families are happy families ever since I watched Cheaper by the Dozen 

Number twenty five: I'm actually not too bad at spontaneous rapping 

Number twenty six: I LOVE baking 

Number twenty seven: I made myself hate clothes shopping when I was little because I wanted to be a zookeeper and thought that people who work in zoos don't go shopping 

Number twenty eight: my favourite animals are orang-utans

Number twenty nine: when I was 2, my mum and grandma lost me in Heathrow airport and only found me because I had wandered into another plane (just about as daring as I've ever been!)

Number thirty: I scare myself with the fantasies I invent which include falling off a cliff and being trapped in a locked car rolling down a hill 

Number thirty one: I'm petrified of death because I can't imagine what happens 

Number thirty two: I get really confused with sarcasm 

Number thirty three: when it snows in England I never want to be anywhere else 

Number thirty four: I'm rubbish on a night out because by 10pm I already have a headache 

Number thirty five: my feet only have to sniff a shoe and they have blisters all over them

Number thirty six: I bought my most recent pair of roller skates this Christmas aged 17

Number thirty seven: I hate exercise  

Number thirty eight: the only time I have been severely told off by a teacher was in year 2 when I was talking at the back of the class about octopuses 

Number thirty nine: I never liked the fact that I could read well in junior school because I was never picked to leave the class and read with the support teacher 

Number forty: after spending 2 weeks in the Indian Himilaya last summer, I came home adamant that I would convert to become Buddhist 

Number forty one: I'm very clumsy, once pulling the door shut by the inside so that I shut my fingers with the door in a kind of finger sandwich (just stupid!) I only realised what had happened when I found that I couldn't move because I seemed to be stuck to door (as unreal as it sounds, yes, this can happen)

Number forty two: when I walk into a book shop I always have to go out again and walk back in because I get so excited I feel sick (even now and I'm 18) 

Number forty three: my favourite shop in the world is The Works in the UK (a discount book shop) 

Number forty four: I've only ever been unconscious once when I tripped over my own shoe and smacked my head on the pavement in America and it was for about 5 seconds (typical me!)

Number forty five: one of my favourite books is To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

Number forty six: I have two middle names which makes my entire name 23 letters long 

Number forty seven: I used to go to my friend house when I was in reception class and eat strawberry lip gloss with her from a small container in her garage (I couldn't help it!) 

Number forty eight: I used to love the feeling of not being able to breathe and would constantly hold my breath until I felt like I was going to fall into myself (and I know that's not healthy!)

Number forty nine: when I was in junior school my favourite after school snack was a slice of white bread smothered with mayonnaise and dried garlic 

Number fifty: I'm an Aries 

So that's me and now you know! Weird? Maybe. Different? Definitely! 

The Writing Block

As you might have gleaned from my sparse blogger profile or the fact that I have 4 blogs, am currently completing 3 novels and have a very active account on the fiction website; movellas (find me at movellas.com under the name Loomweaver32), I absolutely LOVE writing. I'm not complete if I haven't got a book in my bag, pen in my hand or within easy reach of paper. 

I'm 18 but if you ever had to search my bag on a trip clothes shopping you'd find all three of the above.  

I remember the very first days back at junior school after Christmas, Easter, summer breaks or half terms and the feeling of handling a pen for the first time in weeks. I would mould my fingers around it struggling to remember just how I used to grip the thing. Then I would make the first letter. 

My first English class of year 3 after the Christmas holidays is a clear memory. I was sat at the back on an aisle holding this chewed and peeling HB pencil. I began writing: today and saw how the word that I wrote was nothing like English script but far closer to Chinese. I started to cry and leaned across the aisle to my friend, Francesca. 

"I've forgotten how to write," I whispered. 

"Me too," she replied. "How do I hold this?" 

In that respect I've always been pernickety about how my hand writing looks. Even now as I go to University I fret over the height of my letters and the loops of the writing. I swear by Bic Medium pens and practice writing near on every day so that the first weeks back at college aren't spent re-writing the alphabet in uppercase and lower. 

I've always been writing stories. The first that I can clearly remember was in year 3 ( it seems like that was the year that everything was happening!) My first 'boyfriend' was a boy called Ian - though this was a different concept of love. My romantic little eight-year old self decided that for valentine's day I'd write a story as a present. It was written and coloured by yours truly on 4 pieces of folded A4 paper. I remember details of it only vaguely but it was some cliché about him and I sailing a boat to a remote island. Nevertheless for an 8 year old it showed dedication to please and in light of the first attempt, I'm very proud to say that I have gotten better. 

I've tried my hand at various types of fiction. In my early teens I was hooked on love stories and foster care having poured through the entire Jacqueline Wilson collection. 

This was something else that spurred me on. I was about nine when I went to my first book signing to meet Jacqueline Wilson. I queued for 3 hours outside but the excitement made every hour dissipate rather quickly. Arriving at the table where Jacqueline Wilson was, I shook the hand of the assistant beside her rather than handing her my books and then eagerly asked Ms Wilson the question that had been bubbling on my lips for the entire day; Will there be another Tracy Beaker book? She told me no. 

"I think we'll just have to stick to watching it on TV." 

But low and behold, the next year, she had written Starring Me (the third instalment of the Tracy Beaker 'trilogy') and I can only hope that it was me who persuaded Jacqueline Wilson to do so. 

Since those days of abandoned islands and cushy love stories, I've written other forms of fiction. 

Year 12; our English coursework was to write a chapter of a dystopian novel. Settling into writing easily and stumbling on many of the finer details, I earned 100%. This was where my creative writing was rekindled. 

I've always had a crisis of faith in myself. I don't know how many times I've cried when I've told myself that I wasn't any good at anything. It was hard growing up in a very talented family. 

My brothers beat me at most things. I was the oldest so I always set the bar - a level they constantly seemed to override. I was the best at drawing until my oldest brother was better. I was always the trampolining champ of our household until my youngest brother was accepted into the trampoline squad - a team I was too old for. (He was soon doing graceful front somersaults and byranis at national competition level every other weekend.) 

I always wanted to be a pop star - as I think everyone does - but when my mum howled at me when I showed off my supposed talent that dream went out the window. Besides we already had a singer in the extended family. Both her and her sister (my cousins) had been amazing tennis players too, challenging a current Wimbledon commentator. Sports was not on the cards for me. Nothing was. I reckon this is why I'm so in love with religion. The church is one of the first places that I felt worthy in. One of the only places I knew I didn't have to be somebody. I just had to  be Laura. 

Finally, when I had managed full marks in my coursework and people where taking time to read my work and praise me for it, I felt that this was it. 

"This is what I'm good at." 

And the best thing was that I could just let my mind run. I didn't have to conform to anything, be anyone, do anything the way it HAD to be done because nothing needed to be done that way. The world needs people who can break the constraints. Who can provide different perspectives and I was thrilled that I was one of them. In hindsight, I've always thought I was special that way. I, generally, have never felt my age. Always a lot younger. I've never been overtly girly or fashionable and spent AGES talking to my teddies right up until I was 13. Even nowadays, I still talk to someone. I don't know who they are but I find myself talking aloud and flash back to reality thinking, 

"Who am I actually talking to?!"

I've always blamed that eccentricity on falling down a full flight of stairs when I was young but it seems to have done me good in some ways!

I went on this year to achieve in the 90% quartile for my English coursework on a chosen subject for fiction; Autism. 

So now I've begun my first children's fiction novel. It's only something little and not entirely extravagant but I need that to begin with. Then I can attempt to build up to the splendour of Harry Potter. (That is hoping I have that much creative reserve).

The story is called 'Marbles' and can be found at movellas.com under my username Loomweaver32 by looking in My Movellas. It a story about two boys, one rich and the other poor, and a few competitions that they have in the search of what each other wants. 

I don't think I'm really selling it that all that well but maybe check it out for yourself and let me know what you think. Create an account with movellas to publish a comment or to get involved or simply comment at the bottom of this post to share your thoughts. 

Thanks for reading and happy writing! :D 

Tree Hugger

Nature cannot be compromised. It can be retained or destroyed. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Regardless of whether you believe in a God or not, everyone associates nature with divinity. Atheists will try to convince themselves that beautiful landscapes aren't a work of God or any higher being. The religious will work to convince themselves that it is. And anyone in between will be weighing up both arguments. 

You can fall in love with nature, just as you can a wife or husband, boyfriend or girlfriend. You can find yourself, be yourself. I know that staring out at the Indian Himilaya and walking in the valleys of its surrounding foothills is where I've been truest to myself. I figured out what I wanted in life, only to return home and lose all concept of my dreams that were so perfect they seem detached from modern and artificail reality. So conceivable in the wilderness, in a life of tent living and trekking, those dreams were lost to the baffling power of the modern world. It was nature that made me see what I wanted: to immerse myself in religion, straddle continents in a bid to see the whole world and live the simplest of lives by farming, teaching and living of the land. 

The impact of nature is humongous. Just 2 weeks and I was a changed - or realised - women. I had been on a pilgrimage to find myself and settled for nothing but what was true in my heart. Just 2 weeks. And that was all thanks to nature. 

Ask a gardener and they'll tell you how much dedication is needed to maintain a healthy, natural environment. Ask a building developer and they'll tell you how easy it is to destroy everything. 

The fragility of nature is awe-inspiring. Rainforests, deserts, mountains, beaches all create such a strong image in the mind and heart but they are so helpless. 

When I walked down to the beach behind my house one evening, I felt the weakness and powerlessness of the nature. The beach had been a pleasure spot for us on many muggy evenings and warm winter afternoons. White, coarse sand that singed the skin from the bottoms of your feet spread for kilometres. And the sea that lapped at the shore had been so clear and turquoise. Looking out, the horizon was made of the ocean. Just ocean. 

Only I went one evening and realised all those features were gone. Bulldozed, the sand was laced with tyre tracks. There was now a walkway. Nice? Bit at all. Sand had been dumped out to sea and lorries full of more sand and rocks growled along it. At the end of the arm of sand was an island. Trucks were loading the island with rubble to pad it out and laying out the foundations for, what we later found out, was to be a hotel out in the water. All the sea that had once run rampant, crashing against the rocks and dragging small boats out to sea was now stagnant; baking still in the man made lake. The vast expanse of sea that we had taken our kayak out and paddled half way to the Burj Al Arab was now drowned under many feet of imported sand. 

The future income prospect has not, so far, been worth the damage. The UAE, Dubai particularly, has grown so fast within the past few decades. Sprawling and generating a brimming economy we were hardly in need of any more development. 

But maybe I've got it wrong. Maybe I haven't. But the toll of the land is heavily evident. It's a beauty that's list FOREVER! Something as natural as that is never coming back. Ever. And when they realise it will be too late. For that one, seemingly unimportant, beach in one of the hottest places in the world, it is already too late. 

Preparing for uni

I've learnt, university doesn't have to be daunting. Undoubtedly, they will be the best years of your life, everyone says - its a theory I've yet to try. 

When I started year 13 this year I didn't want to begin. As far as I was concerned it was the beginning of the end. Everything if ever known about life was about to change. I was about to be exposed to another side of it. Don't get me wrong - I LOVE surprises. But this surprise want something I wanted to deal with. I know how to cook - so that's fine - and I'm more than OK navigating the bus route - but give me any other map and I'm as useful as a broken compass. 

What's the problem? I kept asking myself. It was an answer I couldn't give. I didn't even know if there was an answer. 

I mulled on the prospect.

I tried to convince myself; 

Everyone does it. Lie number one. 

Your parents aren't far away. Lie number two (my parents live in Dubai - 7 hours from England).

This is what you've always been waiting for. Lie number three. 

This definitely wasn't what I had been waiting for. Whenever I thought of my life I kind of skipped uni out. I knew I would go but when I thought of getting older I thought of getting a job, being a mum and wife. Them being a grandma. Life races ahead of me and, although I always assumed I would have a degree under my belt, getting it was never something I'd ever thought about. 

Then here I was; 17 and in my last year of college, with university in the horizon. 

How daunting! 

After a while though, I came to terms with it. 

This is your life, I thought. You can't chill with mum and dad forever. You need this. 

True - I still have those wobbly days when I don't want to go. But they pass and I try my hardest not to bring them up. 

The most important thing I need to go into university with is an optimistic mind. 

So I've started having fun: planning my room design, buying tools - maybe not your idea of fun. But it took my mind away from the day I leave the sand and trade it in for concrete. 

One of the tasks I've been waiting to do since I started packing is create a photo collage. And now I've finally got it done. 

I imagine it will be very useful. Reminding me of where I've been and how I've come may one day help me write those essays and complete the degree. 

Things are looking up and I can't wait. Especially as I've found out that they have a cake decorating society!!! Who ate all the pies? 

Getting into Uni

This Thursday filled with a sickly mix of dread and excitement, I took the dive with my mum to school to collect my results. 

It's the worst feeling waiting for that envelope. Having to collect it from a teacher who may or may not already know your results. That look; the face concealing a smile that is either wry or pleased. You can never tell. 

I signed an then I got it. DAMN! Not quite what I needed! I was in despair - 2 grades lower than I needed. 

I couldn't help but curse myself; if only I wasn't so conceited! Why did I think I was getting into Uni? That was stupid and now I've jinxed myself! 

I sat with my mum. The results weren't tragic. I knew full well. But I'd applied to Universities that were a little out of my league. I should have been sure of disappointment. 

Now What? I thought.

The last thing I needed was a newspaper journalist, pad in hand asking me how I'd done and what university I was going to. 

'Well I don't think I'll get in now,' I replied. 

'Inshallah! (God willing)'She soothed. 'Inshallah'.

I could have used her optimism. 

We went home and began trawling through clearing vacancies. The track website was down so I was waiting for it to open, second after second becoming awash with grief and uncertainty. 

It opened after a while. I saw the screen. Purple and white filling the window;

Your place at your chosen university has been confirmed on the course BA (Hons) English and Spanish. 

I was ecstatic! 

I've been accepted! When I didn't even get the grades!!!

I never thought it would be happening! My hopes had been dashed and so quickly restored! I was going!! What were the chances? 

So the news has now sunk in and I've been preparing and out shopping I got a little surprise. My nan bought me celebratory chocolate - my gift! I couldn't be happier. Grades and university, a new start and chocolate!!