Monday, 18 July 2016


You know that friend that says, 'I'll be there in half an hour.' But actually it takes 45 minutes to get that location on a good day and you are currently sat in a towel telling yourself you're going to get in the shower, but actually your're 20 minutes deep into an insta-stalk and you can't break out. Two hours later and some rushed tube make up you're friend pretends not to hate you, but they really really hate you. Well, that's me with this blog. I promise myself I am going to write more regularly and then Love Island happens and it's game over.

But now that Love Island has finished and Cara and Nathan are #couplegoals we can go back to the mundane life and infiltrate the inner workings crazy ass family for shits and gigs (insta likes).

As predicted the diva-like-strop-filled behaviour did not end with the journey to Dubai, it obviously continued throughout. It is more than likely a behavioural issue for life.

We are still on day one and the drama has not ended, not even close. Furious that so much tanning time (in hindsight two hours)  has been comprised, and more importantly that I have missed breakfast, I declare that I am going to the pool and all that wish may join. Baz raises one eyebrow and sulks back into his armchair, still fuming we made him switch back rooms, and flashes his lurid green kindle in my face to say, 'piss off Billie.' Someone has accidentally sent a cake to our room saying 'Happy Birthday Ramesh'. Fuck Ramesh, I'm eating the cake. I vow to not tell Baz the real reason I wanted to change rooms...

Annie and I attempt to out run (medium paced walk) each other to the pool because we both know it's going to be a battle as to who gets the chair entirely drenched in sun whilst the other poor sod has to bathe in the winner's shadow. I pip her to the post and steal the prime spot of ultimate sun worshipper. Casting a broad shadow over an already pissed off Annie I refrain from asking if I can use her fancy Dior sun care.

Tanning gate opens. But in 38 degrees trying to sit out in the direct heat is one sweaty feat. Seven minutes is all can manage, it's time to submerge. I am like a whale to the water. Elegant, graceful, slow. Except I forget to take out my contact lenses and my smooth entry into the pool, very quickly turns into pathetic gasping and spluttering as my eyes burn like the depths of hell.

Back to the 38 degrees, and this time totally blind. Holiday going really fucking well so far.

By 5pm I've had all that I can take for one day, I just need bed and Harry Potter. But Geeta has got other plans, they want to go into the non air conditioned part of Doobs and do some Indian shopping. Goals, right there. We go, we trapse, Annie and I almost shed tears, Baz barters harder than any Indian ever has before. Not over the clothes, no no. Over the cashew nuts, priorities.

It's 10pm - I'm tired, I'm hungry, It's muggy, I want to go back to the hotel and go to bed. Wake up and enjoy paradise. Baz has other plans, he wants to try out the new Indian restaurant in the hotel, obvs. By the time we get back to the hotel and freshen up we are looking at a 11pm dinner and I have now been awake for nearly 48 hours. Believe it or not by this point I'm not even hungry so inevitably Billie the brat comes out (for the 400th time in 3 days) and I threaten to throw his cashew nuts out the window if he makes us to go to dinner at 11pm. Baz not backing down from his grilled platter dreams goes toe to toe. It's battle of the Bhatias and I have this sinking feeling that the real lawyer is going to take this one.

Skip past the silent taxi journey back to the hotel, the furious application of mascara (no fucks given that more of it is on my eyelids than my eyelashes) and I stomp down to the restaurant throw myself in the chair and order all the food I know Baz hates...veggie. One small win of the day. I mutter to Annie that it is actually delicious but NO WAY is Baz going to find out that I enjoyed dinner. The strop must be upheld at all times.

Day one, done.

Let the games commence.

Us Bhatias we like routine, and it all starts with the food. Wake up, get dressed and head down to browse the never ending breakfast counters. There is everything you can imagine, and as you might have guessed we take full advantage.

I start with good intentions - some fruit and a mango smoothie. Then the hashbrowns and the Willy Wonka looking pastry counter start to creep into my periphery. Game over, I am darting towards the pistachio pastries before you can say, 'complex carbohydrates.' And the rest of the clan follow suit. Baz has more of an egg themed breakfast, six to be precise. Annie goes full English, because all breakfast foods should include ketchup. In fact scratch that, according to the world of Annie Bhatia all meals should include ketchup. Of course in comes Geeta with her blueberry bircher museli to make us all feel really shit about ourselves. But it doesn't stop us from repeating the entire process every morning of the holiday. Cue 7lbs weight gain.

The rest of the holiday can be broken down to this:

Tan Wars: the fight for the best chairs continues. But now other guests are so fearful of our mafia like appearances that no one dare sit in the waterfall seats with our ass imprints on.

Beggy Billie: Do you want to play catch? Do you want to have swimming races? Do you want to go to pool bar? Do you want to go to beach? Do you want to duck waves? Do you want to see how far out we can swim out? Do you want to play bat and ball? Do you want alcohol? The answer to all the above is, NO. My family are a bunch of boring basic bitch farts.

Classic Annie One-Liners: It all started in 2005 our first trip to Dubai when Annie and I were sat on the beach and all of a sudden she pelts over with nothing but pure fear on her face, 'Oh my god Billie I think my Tiffany bracelet is melting on my wrist.' Because sure silver melts regularly at 35 degrees. 11 years on and not much has changed:

On Stella McCartney:
AB: I really want a Stella McCartney Fallabella bag.
BB: I just don't know how you can justify spending that much money on a bag that's not even leather.
AB: What do you mean?
BB: It's a vegan leather.
AB: So like vegetarian cows?
BB: Sure....

On her silkier than silky hair:
AB: Oh my god the water here is making my hair so soft and silky, my curlers aren't even working and they normally hold so well. My hair is just so soft. *flicks hair repeatedly*
BB: That's strange
AB: Like I have been trying to curl my hair for the last 30 minutes I don't understand
BB: (Still entertaining this ridiculous conversation) Weird. Are you sure they're turned on?
AB: .....turns plug on.

On the coffee machine:
AB: I'm going to make a coffee
BB: Cool, maybe have a peak at the instructions it looks a bit complex.
AB: I'm not stupid, Billie, I think I know what I'm doing. [Shoves milk capsule where the coffee should go, snaps the lid off and watches the coffee machine go up in smokes].
BB: Good work, babes.

On losing weight:
BB: Eurgh I need to lose weight after this holiday.
AB: Why don't you try just like....not being yourself for 6 months? That's got to do something.

On churros at the Mexican restaurant that Baz threw the biggest badest strop that ever was.
AB: I just love churros, let's have churros. Do you want churros? I'm ordering churros.
[Churros finally arrive.]
AB: These churros taste like India. I don't think I like churros.

Big Bad Baz and the rising humidity:
In 2003 we went on holiday to a beautiful Spanish villa that  sadly didn't have air conditioning in every single room, Baz as such spent all of the holiday sat in the air conditioned hire car listening to Cat Stevens and plotting our escape. Fast forward to 2016 and unless he is sat in a room with sub 15 degrees air conditioning avoid Baz at all costs. Let the below be a lesson to you all.

  1. One evening we went to the neighbouring hotel for a walk around, this required a non air conditioned buggy ride to said hotel. Strike one. 
  2. A 6 minute walk in the evening Arabian heat across a bridge, upon finding out that information Baz demanded we take the 20 minute boat ride instead. Strike 2. 
  3. We (the girls) decided to eat in a non-asian inspired restaurant. Strike 3. Cue the strop. Menus were thrown, stink eyes were given, loud aggressive breathing was heard. 24 hour silent protest ensued. Baz is the biggest diva (read: dictator) of them all. 
And so the week continued much as it did before, with hideous behaviour from all but Geeta, who is far too sensible for such hysterical nonsense. The dream, no? 

The Bhatias are accepting all 2017 family holiday offers. We apologise in advance for our outrageous behaviour. But not that much.

See ya next year Doobs,

Fatty BB xxx

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