Oman

Our trip to Oman had been booked long before I injured my back and whether we went or not was touch and go to the last minute. However, armed as I was with painkillers, we figured I could follow instructions to rest just as well on a beach as in the apartment. It couldn’t be the holiday we’d planned but doing nothing in, let’s face it, a pretty luxurious setting, wasn’t half bad. The sights of Muscat will just have to wait for another visit.

Lazy days on the Lazy River

Beautifully groomed camels on the beach.

A lovely spot for a wedding.

Bad Back

I’ve always said exercise was bad for you. I’ve never been a big fan. Traipsing up hills was always about my limit and then usually accompanied by constant moaning. And don’t even get me started on jogging. Swimming is supposed to be ideal and is Neil’s current exercise of choice but I’ve never been keen. Water is not mankind’s natural element. If you don’t believe me try inhaling it, something I seem to do whenever I’m out of my depth or there’s some git charging along regardless of anyone else. And, most importantly, my hair suffers.

Since we’ve been in Abu Dhabi, though, I’ve succumbed to the gym. As you might expect, I don’t over do it. 20 minutes walking on a treadmill combined with some light weight work for my arms is enough and I keep right away from personal trainers pushing clients to do more. Nevertheless, I’ve managed to inflict severe pain on myself. I can hardly walk. I’m swallowing painkillers like Jelly Tots and getting into positions a contortionist would admire trying to make myself comfortable.

So instead of sitting by the marina in the afternoon sun and sipping prosecco I’m housebound. Instead of writing about today’s planned Desert Safari I’m blogging about my bad back. And Neil is having to do the shopping – you know how much he loves that.