Cowabunga

For some, maternal stirrings are as foreign as a KFC Rounder backstage during fashion week in Milan.

I don’t know. Sometimes I feel the tug pretty strong.

Right now I’m feeling maternal towards some unborn turtles. In fact I have named the first three hatchees (hatchlings?) already: Leonardo, Raphael and lastly, Little Splinter, for good measure. I haven’t seen them yet, but I know they are going to be bloody cute.

We are off to Muscat, Oman, this weekend to watch some nocturnal hatchings, and well as getting trousered at the poolside bar of the Shangri-La hotel.

During the summer in the Middle East, most people with half a brain make like lemmings and disappear for cooler climates. Reprobates like us stick around and sweat it out. And occasionally take advantage of summer rates specials at various hotels in prime locations. Hence the Shangri-La deal of the century. We’re staying in the Superior Suites for the pisswilly price of 500 Dirhams for the weekend.

Last night I loaded up my i-Tunes and we shall be bopping and grinding like Paul van Dyk’s entourage for our 5 hour road trip. We’ll need it - Kotters has a hangover and our lives are in his hands as he is the one with the 4x4.

Just realized what a dorky headline this post has. Sorry.