Deira fridge fiasco

(May 25) Apologies for the lapse in communication. Firstly I was seeking to find some furniture for an apartment that was devoid of any furnishings, save for fitted wardrobes and kitchen cupboards, and then my wife arrived five days ago and we have been trying to refamiliarise with each other, as well as get more furniture, not always an easy process on either count. We had a day together, which involved an overpriced but very tasty Lebanese mezze selection in a hot little café, and a romantic stroll down creek-side Bur Dubai, before the next day I returned to keyboard pounding and phone calls intended to ease, ironically enough, my passage out of here to spend a few weeks researching on one or two neighbouring countries. This didn’t help our situation, but now with the local weekend upon us we have been able to get closer to each other and, as I put it to her, she has “unblocked the drain”…..

It is strange to now be living across the creek from Deira. However there has been one key event to remind me of my old home. Before she arrived I purchased a couple of white goods from Deira Souq, having hopped back over on the abra. Given the financial situation, buying seriously second hand items have to been to an extent forced upon us, but of course the reason why you wouldn’t do that back home can soon seem oh so clear. After nine days, and only shortly after my wife’s arrival, the fridge went kaput. A brief inspection of the receipt given to me in one of the back allies off Musallah Road Deira revealed the legend “NO GUARANTEE” emblazoned across the document. I rang a number on it and asked for “boss”. To my surprise the bloke who answered offered to replace it with the same hi-tech model that very same day. Too good to be true? Indeed. Lateness is one thing, but on checking when the exchange would in fact take place, to be told that “pick up” charges would be at my expense, sent me through the roof. My usual strategic skills in the course of the ensuing argument over the phone ensured that I had no way out other than to back down and agree that I was probably not going to go to the police armed with the receipt and would in fact pay the fridge collection charge. Said item arrived at nearly 11pm and was filthy. "Boss" had plainly found his way to the back of his storage depot of ageing white goods and found the most dirt encrusted item he could to remind me of who, in fact, was boss. Two hours later and much back pain, the design classic was almost gleaming. A couple of smuggled mini bottles of schnapps and a game of Scrabble later (the kind of gig one looks for these days), and we felt brave enough to switch the machine on…….sounding good……

Today’s exercise is to get to Times Square, that being one of a plethora of malls, and to check out some white goods etc…..money suddenly having become less of an object…..