Dubai

We begin today’s despatch in the most unlikely of settings: the pub of the Queen Elizabeth II. Cunard fashioned this giant of nautical pleasure in 1969. In her first few years she would tantalise the world with talk of terrorist plots and mid to high ocean-crossing speeds. Today, in what many consider a great tragedy, she sits in berth as a floating hotel, in Dubai. I boarded without a reservation or even a light security frisk. Over many hours I managed to lose myself in the endless corridors and poorly marked stairwells. If the British Parliament ever approves assisted dying, it might extend the privilege to one of Britain’s great pleasure cruisers. The QEII is alive, but she is not thriving. Like other sea-faring household favourites, she deserves a tragic sinking.

We continue today’s despatch in the most likely of settings, given the city in question: a mall. Ignoring my disdain for the adoption of the American nomenclature, one could be impressed by the sheer scale of these air conditioned monuments to greed. You can buy almost anything and you can eat almost any cuisine. This author was thrilled to eat in a Nando’s, far from South London (Lemon and Herb if you must know). There is lots to hate about them and I do. First amongst my gripes is the fact that they have become a destination for visitors, as if there isn’t a Nike store in London/Paris/NYC. It’s like changing the currency makes buying a tennis polo shirt a compelling life experience. Readers, it doesn’t.

If we can all collectively forgive ‘mall culture’ we must not be kind to Kind Kones - and the wider Dubai Creek area. What a wretched and treacherous place. Lured there by promises of history, I was presented with an ice cream parlour that had fake plants. You read that right, fake plants. Now, if they were fake dandelions, I might be able to accept it. But to have fake snake plants, a species that famously thrives in Dubai’s climatic conditions, is heinous. It’s lazy and it must be stopped at all cost.

The one redeeming feature of the Creek is that you get an excellent view of Emirates’ many planes departing the earth for destinations unknown. I don’t know what is more impressive: the scale of the airport operation or the fact an A380 can actually fly. For so much of the early take off, the A380 appears to fly horizontally, not gaining any altitude. It must surely crash, but it doesn’t. With a grace nothing that heavy should have, Newton is considered and off it goes. I presume those looking out of the plane window can’t see the fake plants. If they could, they might never return.

I’m going to be a hypocrite. I loved Ski Dubai. Not because of the quality of skiing, but because going downhill at any sort of speed, in any context, is fun. Astonishingly good value for money too. I think all in it came to less than £50 for 3 hours and they even threw in a hot chocolate. My Nando’s wasn’t far off that. Sure there were many children making tiktoks and yes, you end up doing the same thing over and over again. But for all of my famous cynicism, this was an evening and literally thousands of tonnes of carbon well spent.

If Samuel Taylor Coleridge were still alive, would he write ‘The Whine of the Modern Marina’? E-scooters whizz past you at a terrifying pace, whilst avocado is served all around. People that lack personalties hire a cheap boat for the day to cruise around and enjoy a few hours relief from their own lived tragedy. The only albatross in this edition would be the repressive heat caused by the reflection of the sun in the endless skyscraper windows. Trendy? No. A nice place to pass the time? No. Better go back to the mall.