12 THINGS THAT ARE SCARING ME ABOUT MOVING TO DUBAI.

1. LITERALLY EVERYTHING.

I mean no, not everything. But most things. I've finally got all my flight and hotel details through and everything (thank god, since I'm leaving on Friday) so I'm having a really like SHIT THIS IS HAPPENING moment. I mean it's been happening for the last month and I'm so so excited but I've now packed my shoes into my suitcase so it's got seriously real.

But in all seriousness these are the things that I'm fretting about most and if anyone has any advice or knowledge they'd like to share and help a sister out that would be excellent.

1. Getting on a plane by myself. Don't mean to sound like a baby but I refuse to find the toilet in a bar or restaurant by myself so this is almost too much. I'm actually forcing Storm to come and see me off because I feel like she's good at life and will point me in the right direction.

2. What to pack. How the hell do you pack for boiling weather when you have to cover up, and how on earth can I fit my life into one suitcase and still arrive to a new job feeling sassy and fashionable? I'm also using those sucking-the-air-out bags you can get so fear 2.a is those filling with air and bursting open and spraying my belongings everywhere.

3. Getting my visa stamped and approved when I get there. Like, what if they say no just because they don't like the cut of my jib or something?

4. Getting lost. I have a genuinely hopeless sense of direction (much to the disapproval of my dad) and I am now moving somewhere I have never been and the impression I get is that you can't just walk places, which is mostly how I fix getting lost because Google Maps is my babe for life.

5. Phone contract. I have to get a new Sim when I'm out there, meaning I'll have a new confusing number, will probably lose all my friends numbers, and I have too many excellent Whatsapp groups that people will have to re-add me to. Also I still have 10 months of my phone contract here so have to decide between leaving it running for no reason or paying like £1000 to get out of it. EE can do one, they are my least favourites.

6. Being in a bikini a lot. I mean quite self explanatory but my Dubai diet was supposed to start approximately four weeks ago and I'm currently halfway through my eighth biscuit of the day.

7. Finding a flat. My no.1 fear at this point. I have two weeks in a hotel to do it, but it can't be done until my new bank account is set up, which can't be done until my Visa is done, and apparently there's Visa delays. I also have to run around in 30 degree heat in areas I don't know dealing with (probably) dodgy landlords. That was rotten enough when I had to do it in London recently and it was only like 19 degrees. And I wasn't on a deadline.

8. Not making any friends. It's like starting Uni only everyone else already lives there and you're just this fruity panicking stranger barging into their midst begging for love and trying not to sweat.

9. Boiling/burning to death. I'm a secret ginger so fear for my life.

10. Offending someone and being arrested. Not by getting slutty and getting my knees out or anything but through my uncanny knack for thinking without speaking.

11. Hating my job. I've been in same easy, secure job for 3 years and suddenly I'll have to try and impress people and try hard and stuff. And not say anything inappropriate.

12. Being poor. Trying to figure out money and whether I'll be ok and whether my salary is fair is like learning how to live on Monopoly money when you don't actually know how much stuff like washing tablets costs for the little people in Monopoly.

This was supposed to be a list of ten things but I'm so scared it became twelve. What a wimp. I'm just trying to focus on the fact that I'm actually panic excited and no matter how much you stress everything seems to work out in the end, doesn't it. DOESN'T IT?

HELLO, IT'S ME.

If you didn't sing that title like Adele, then this isn't going to work out.

But hi, I'm Storm, the other half of the Devon/Dubai duo. The left boob, if you will.

As Ria so eloquently explained, I’m running off to Devon to work with horse sperm. Except, that’s not actually what I’m doing – I’ll be doing media and marketing for a stud farm (where horses are bred) and stallion agency just to the north of Dartmoor, and I start in January.

It will be a big change for me, to be part of small company on the rise, rather than a tiny fish in a global industry in decline (RIP print media). 

I’ll still be doing lots of things I love, like designing, photography and video, while also living up to my nickname at my current job of ‘Tech Support’, as I endeavour to fix those random kind of problems you never see coming, which is one of my weird talents. Mainly because I know how to Google.

Deciding to leave London and move to the wild, wild West Country is not something I saw coming. To quote John Green, and further steal the idea from Hemingway, it happened slowly, and then all at once.

I’d been thinking about leaving my current job for a while, but I wasn’t really looking. Then this opportunity came up and I accepted it almost immediately; the only question I asked was “Can I have a dog?”. (Yes, is the answer: watch this space.)

I’ve been in London three years, and as a bit of a country bumpkin, it’s taken me a while to find my groove. I’ve now found a great flat, great housemates, and great friends, so obviously I’ve decided it’s time to pack up and leave again.

Ria and I have always been opposites; growing up, she was always perfectly coiffed and styled (and still is), while I was more likely to be found with mud on my nose and smelling strongly of Eau de Cheval. But, I like to think she’s rubbed off on me; I still love getting dressed up – I just normally have to borrow something from her to do it!

I’ve got a bit longer than her to prepare, so my struggles right now are a) finding a short-term flatmate to fill a space in my flat for two months, and b) cramming everything you’re supposed to do in London before you die into the next eight weeks.

Big Ben, I’m coming for you.

xoxo

DD.

SO. Before you get all excited, the Double D in the title isn't about boobs unfortunately. Calm down. This isn't that sort of blog. If you ended up here looking for porn then 1000 apologies.

What this ACTUALLY is is a way for me, Ria, and my sister, Storm (yes, genuinely, that's her name) to blog about the huge life changes that are happening to us both, weirdly at the same time. And what that is, is that we're both moving out of London to places we've never been before, and places that couldn't be more different to each other.

She's off to Devon.

While I'm moving to Dubai.

(Hence the DD)

My understanding of her job is mainly that it revolves around horse sperm, while I'm going to be a stylist for a company that I don't yet know the actual name of. We're potentially making some really strong life choices here.

But anyway we thought this would be a good way to keep our family and all our friends updated on what's happening, and also thought the differences and similarities of moving to two such different places could be interesting to see side by side, and might be helpful for anyone that's potentially doing the same sort of thing. And also it will probably be interesting for horse perverts.

So she'll be updating from a field.

And I'll be doing it from a beach.

I MEAN I know I'm biased but I deffo think I've made the better choice here.

So that's that for now. I'm moving at the beginning of November and she's going early January, so the next month or so will probably just be me stressing about how to dress in a country where it's 50 degrees but you have to be covered up, and her delighting over the fact that she's getting all my winter jumpers. Send help.

Ria x