The world works in mysterious ways.....

I ended up staying at work til around ten last night and then went home and promptly went to bed. This is all due to the lack of heating. After my last post, I think I started feeling more and more fed-up. I hadn't been paid for a while so was down to less than a euro in my purse, I was cold but not as cold as I'd have been if I'd been in my flat. Alberto and Yvonne dropped into the shop at around nine, a bit surprised to find me still there. They must have thought I was very diligent still working until that time - until the penny dropped that I was still there as it was warm and my flat is freezing cold. As the flat is actually rented by Alberto and I sub-let from him, he's meant to be sorting things out there for me. But he has so much on his plate that my place is pretty low down on the priority list. Anyway, I did get a bit grumpy and make a point about no heating, no money. I don't usually do this but frankly I was pretty fed-up.

This morning when I came into work, Alberto said "listen I've been thinking, why don't you move into one of the villas over the winter. It's going to get very cold and they have central heating and are empty at the moment". So once again, I'm going to be on the move (well tomorrow morning). I'm going to leave the bulk of my stuff in the flat and just take essentials with me to the villa. It's not bad, a 3-bedroom, 3-bathroom stunning villa! And it's got an oven which means I can bake and roast and do things like that which is great! Now all I have to do is let my London friends know so they can come and visit while I'm living in such luxury!

It's really cold here!

It might have been quite sensible to check what the weather does in Ibiza in the winter before moving out here. Actually, that's a silly sentence as I've never looked into the weather before going to live somewhere. Although anywhere that had a lot of dark or grey would probably not do very well in attracting me.

Anyway, winter seems to be on its way and it's pretty cold. This isn't helped by the fact that I haven't got any heating in my flat, apart from a small electric heater in the bathroom. I was given a couple of electric heaters but the electricity in the flat is not geared up for that type of heater (or maybe it's just not geared up to too many things being plugged in at the same time). In the last couple of weeks, the electricity has gone out three times and we've been plunged into darkness - this seems to happen when myself and my neighbours all put on a light and maybe switch one other appliance on too. The electricity set-up is a bit rubbish....

We do have heating at work though. Sadly this means that I'm now staying at work later and later as it's so cold in the flat I don't want to go home. I've lost count of the number of times I've made dinner still wearing my coat. And then I find myself thinking "I'm cold, I can't get warm so I might as well go to bed" - and it's only 8 o'clock! Hopefully over this week-end, we'll get some gas heaters for my flat and I can resume normal life again! I did a whole load of washing this week and then found I couldn't get my clothes to dry as they were just hanging there in the cold. I think I'm going to have to iron everything just to get it dry!

After getting cold a few times at night, I brought my winter duvet over from London. It made such a difference and I started sleeping well again. But the last couple of nights, the temperature has plummeted and two nights on the trot, I found myself waking up cold and not being able to get back to sleep again. Last night, I went to bed wearing layers. This is similar to the look I've perfected for the daytime but not quite so many layers. I hate having to wear anything at night but it's become necessary. So last night I went off to bed wearing jogging pants, a t-shirt and a big fleece. I had a wonderful night's sleep - being warm and snuggly is the way to go!

So easily pleased, it doesn't take much!

After quite a few days of feeling very unexcited about work due to all the recent stuff that's happened, something happened today to turn that all around and get me feeling pretty excited again!

Alberto and Yvonne got back from Marrakech last night and I had an impromptu meeting with them this morning. I can't remember if I've previously mentioned the various projects they have on the go but at present, they have their villas in Ibiza as well as the interiors shop, the riad in Marrakech, a boutique hotel opening in Bali, a plot of land on some island off Bali where they're going to build a beach-front hotel and a small hotel opening in the north of Ibiza. They also have a house on the hill here that they will be doing up and their own house which will also be done up in the next year or so.

After the last couple of weeks, it really felt like they were spreading themselves too thin and some things were not being done properly. Or they'd leave people to take care of things once they'd moved on to the next project and things would flounder. I was getting increasingly concerned about the fact that I'm supposed to now be Alberto's right hand girl but I wasn't sure if the message was getting through that they need to do more than create amazing interiors, they have to make sure all the operations are in place for everything to function really well.

Anyway, I trotted off to the meeting with them this morning, unaware what it was going to be about. They presented me with a document prepared by the management company that has been enlisted to help with the Bali project. The document was about five pages long and went into minute detail on every aspect that needs to be considered for the opening of the project, including staff recruitment and training. It made my heart sing to see this! They asked me to prepare a similar document for the hotel in Ibiza. I literally left that meeting skipping (or maybe that was the two cafe con leches I had) - all the things I was trying to emphasise the significance of were in the document. I've spent the best part of the day making our own version of the document for the Ibiza project, it was time-consuming but what a joy! We've now got a framework to follow, to see what needs to be done and what is still outstanding. I'm not sure what my role (if any) will be with this project - Alberto asked me if I wanted to manage the hotel but I declined, saying that it was something I could have done fifteen years ago. But I'm more than happy to get involved with getting it all set up and making it all work!

We're also going to use the document for any future projects (and use it as a point of reference for things already established). At last, the challenge seems a little less daunting.....

Paris

I was listening to the Friendly Fires album last night and on there is a song called "Paris". It took me back to 1992 and the time I lived close enough to Paris to make regular visits. It was a special time, a magical time, not only because Paris is such a beautiful city but also because I fell in love for the first time then.

The wonderful thing about falling in love for the first time is that you really have no idea how it's going to feel until it happens. You have no idea how you're going to act or behave, the sides of your personality you'll see that you've never seen before. This much I know though, falling in love really does feel like you're falling, uncontrollably, giddily, wonderfully, happily falling.....

I think what made it all the more special was the fact that I thought I had been in love before. I'd known James since I was 17, we'd been best friends and he'd been amazing at a particular time in my life. I have many fond memories of a wonderful friendship. But we made the mistake of going out. I think it was a knee-jerk reaction on his part to my announcement that I was going to study in the States. Suddenly we were an item when in previous discussions, we'd decided to just be friends. It was very serious very quickly. I thought I was in love, I think he did too. But deep down inside, something just didn't feel right. I couldn't put my finger on it but something felt wrong. I went off to America and once there, we got more and more serious and decided to get married. But all the time, I had that horrible gnawing feeling inside of me that something was just not right. And the worst thing about going out with your best friend? When you need to talk about things like this, you can no longer talk to your best friend. At the end of my time in the States, I came back to London. On the one hand I was delighted to see him, on the other hand I felt scared and nervous and apprehensive but I didn't know why. We made plans to get married, set a date for the muslim wedding and then he met someone else. It broke my heart and it felt like my whole world had just crumbled to pieces and my dad threatened to kill him if he ever saw him again! I think it really upset my dad as he saw his strong, fiercely independent daughter fall to pieces in his arms, my mum could cry with me, my dad couldn't.

Anyway, about eight months later I went off to France on a work placement for university, still nursing a bruised heart and wondering why it had all happened. I was shy and quiet and kept myself to myself in the chateau where I was working. One evening I was sat on my own in the staff cafe, head engrossed in a book. D also worked at the chateau and walked past me. I think he felt sorry for me, sat there all on my own, no doubt looking a bit forlorn. He was on his way to Paris to meet friends for a drink and to play pool. He invited me along and I happily said yes as I've always loved Paris (well ever since I first visited when I was 16).

We went to Paris and played pool and on the drive back to the chateau we got talking, really talking. We were so engrossed in our conversation that once we pulled into the chateau car park, we sat there for another couple of hours continuing the conversation. I have no idea what exactly we talked about but I remember for the first time in my life feeling like I'd just met someone I really, truly connected with. There were similarities in our personalities, we looked at the world and dealt with things in the same way. Although our childhoods were different, there were things that felt the same, particularly the way we looked at things. I was reading a lot of books on the world and how it works trying to gain some understanding, he was reading the same books in French! I came away reeling, thinking "we've got to go out again" - I think I forced him into asking me out on a date (unheard of for me) as he was being fairly nonchalant about the whole thing, very galllic!

We went out on a date and very quickly ended up falling crazily, madly head over heels in love. I realised that I had never fallen in love with James because it had never come anywhere close to what I was feeling then. There was a joyful magic in seeing yourself falling in love, seeing the person that you are when it happens. I thought I'd behave in a particular way, cool and independent - I couldn't have been more wrong but it felt fine! We had a magical, special few months together, with numerous trips to Paris. We'd wander for hours through the city, hand in hand, dropping into cafes along the way. I remember running through the rain, I think we were on the way to a party at someone's house. And I remember a particularly romantic date in the most unromantic of places - McDonalds on the Champs Elysee. Maybe in Paris, everything takes on a romantic glimmer.....

It's been over six years since I last visited the beautiful city. The next time I fall in love I'm going to whisk that special person straight over to Paris!

Nature or nurture?

I've always wondered about the nature vs nurture debate - whether who we are and how we are is based on our genes or our environment? In recent years, I've come to the conclusion that our genes play a significantly larger part in it all, with the environment playing a smaller but still important role. But then I look at my siblings and for one family to produce four such different people leaves me baffled. We all have the same genes and yet we've turned out so differently?

But when I look at myself, I can see where elements of my personality have come from. My love of interiors, of nature, of all things beautiful come from my mum's middle sister. I'd love to have her grace and poise, she has the elegance of Audrey Hepburn which I aspire to - but when I told my friend Simone this, she said "you'll never be like Audrey Hepburn, you're far too cheeky!" I don't mind that, I like being cheeky! And where does that cheekiness come from? It comes from my dad. My outspokeness comes from my dad's youngest sister. Everyone says that my younger sister is like my aunt but I don't see it like that. My aunt is outspoken and she will say what she thinks, my sister is argumentative and dramatic so in fact quite different. If I have any tact and diplomacy, it comes from my dad's oldest sister but I think it's difficult to combine outspokeness and tact and diplomacy - on occasions where my friends have remained quiet about something, I'll open my mouth and say what I think! A few friendships have disintegrated because of this outspokeness but I guess it's a good test of who your friends are and who aren't.

I can also pinpoint defining moments that have played an enormous part in who I am - these are the environmental factors that have influenced me. I've always been driven and determined, as if I've been on a mission to get somewhere, to be someone - and it's got to be the best (based on what is the best for me). This has come from a deep-seated desire not to live in my older sister's shadow all my life. When we were growing up, she was the golden child, the one who was going to become the doctor and live out my dad's dreams. She was brainy and beautiful and sporty and musical - in fact, someone once said to me when I was a child "Your sister is the brains and the beauty in this family" - erm thanks, that's very encouraging! But thank the lord I wasn't one of those "poor me" types (otherwise known as a victim) as I'd have just let that all make me feel very sorry for myself and quite possibly not achieve anything at all. When you're busy playing the role of victim, all your energy goes into that whereas if you diverted it into something far more positive, you'd probably do quite well!

I always thought I was the same as her, eventhough I went through quite a gawky phase that lasted about a decade (from 7 to 17), I was skinny and had buck teeth and a face that didn't quite work. I wasn't very good at team sports and couldn't sing but I was pretty brainy so that was something. But it came as a bit of a shock when in my final year at junior school we were getting ready to put on the school play (in French). Four years previously, my older sister had the starring role as the inn-keeper's wife with lots of lines in French. I assumed I would also get that same role, I was all prepared to be given that role. Imagine my shock when I found out my part in the play was that of a dog, and all I had to say was "woof woof!" I came down to earth with a bump! Looking back it's all quite amusing and if things like this made me driven and determined, then they're no bad thing!

I've always been seen as fiercely independent but that can be traced back to incidents in my growing-up years that made me think "if you want to be sure of something, do it yourself". If I wanted to better my life, it was up to me to do it - relying on anyone else might lead to disappointment. Of course this is one of life's very important lessons - to take responsibility for your own life. There were certain things I wanted to see in my adult life so I took responsibility for them, instead of relying on someone else to provide them for me. That's not to say it doesn't work, I'm sure there are some people who would provide everything for you but I'd rather know that I can look after myself before I let anyone else look after me.

Anyway, I've gone off on a complete tangent because the thing I wanted to actually discuss here, within the parameters of the nature/nurture debate is this:

"High standards, attention to detail - can you learn this or are some people born with it and others not?"

I know I have high expectations when it comes to work and I pay attention to the details. But was I born with this or did I learn it? I know I've been taught high standards in my first few years of work. It started when I was twelve and I was working at the local riding school. We were taught how to do things properly, our yard was always immaculate, we'd spend hours cleaning and polishing tack and grooming the horses and ponies. Everyone was on time for work (a few of us would even be there an hour early), perhaps we were taught excellent work ethics and attitude at the riding school. When I got my first proper part-time job, working in the restaurant of the Crown and Greyhound in Dulwich Village, Barbara the manageress taught me how to do things properly there. She was an ex-Playboy Bunny and if there was one place where high standards were expected and maintained, it was at Playboy.

To me, it seems as if I learnt these qualities when I started work. But maybe they'd been there already, lying dormant, looking for an environment where they could surface. Up til then, life at home had been chotic and messy, if there were any standards, they weren't very high. So, the question is, was I born with these things or did I learn them? And the reason I ponder this is because with our recent problems with our riad in Marrakech, I've got to train our general manager in the standards that need to be met and maintained. But is it something you're either born with or not or is it something that can be learnt? Is it just a question of showing someone how to do things so they can carry on once you're gone or is it really a case of some people have it and others don't so no matter how much you show someone, if they just aren't at that level or they just don't get it, you'll find it difficult to make them understand. Oh well, I'm out there in a couple of weeks and fingers crossed I do manage to get this message across!

Two lives

I've had two trips to London in the past month. On the first trip, I felt this lovely warm sensation of having two lives, one here in Ibiza and the other in London. It's as if I have a foot in both and can move seamlessly between the two. It appears to be the case in my life. I grew up with two cultures and although in my late teens (when I was seen as a rebel) I was a terrible embarrassment to the Pakistani community and possibly my family, I now feel that I do have a foot in each and once again move seamlessly between the two. I don't really socialise within the Pakistani community (no doubt they would all look at me with pity because I'm not married and wonder why that was) but I do have some very close connections with various family members and that's good enough for me.

I have a strong sense of who I am and where I came from and the much bigger picture that goes before me. But I also fit in very comfortably on the British side so in a way, I've got the best of both worlds. I remember when I was going through that rebellious phase, I felt as if I didn't really belong in one culture but wasn't sure that the other culture would accept me. I wondered if I'd end up in some strange no-man's land, stuck between two cultures but not belonging to either. Luckily things worked out in my favour and I've now got two very different cultures that I reside within.

It's the same with work. My decade-long career in London saw me doing two vastly different things - being an international relations consultant and interiors. When I did just one, I'd miss the other. It's as if I need both to satisfy different parts of me and I'm at my happiest when I'm moving between the two. My time in London also had another angle, that of a party girl. For eight or nine years, I went to some of the best parties that London had to offer but that party-loving streak was combined with a fiercely professional head. Consequently I never let my weekends creep over into Monday morning. Although some wonky occasions on a school night did result in me being at work the next day in body but not necessarily in mind. But my weekends and my weekdays were kept far apart.

Returning to this sensation of having two lives, one in Ibiza, one in London, when you have this kind of existence, it's lovely because you see the best in both. I love the vast rugged beauty of the island, beauty of the natural kind, not nature manicured to perfection. It's the sort of beauty I love, natural, organic, wild - the kind that can take your breath away. Inky black skies flooded with stars, the sea now the colour of dark-blue denim, the multiple shades of the pine trees, the moodiness of a grey sky. On the other hand, stick me in London and I love the bright twinkling lights of the city and getting around on public transport, where I can gaze out of the window at the world passing by, instead of having to concentrate on the road. I love the things I don't have in Ibiza, being able to go to the cinema or an art gallery or a museum, hopping around to see various friends, enjoying parks and my favourite book-shops. I'm not due in London now til Christmas but I'm already excited about the things I can do, the people I can see.

Since my recent trips to London, I've found myself thinking about a life that flits between the two. I would love to live something between the two places, filling me with the best of both. One is a strikingly beautiful island, the other a sparkling capital city but there are parts within me that hanker after both. There are elements in both that I love and that I don't find in the other. It seems as if after having two cultures and two worlds of work, I now find myself with two places where I want to live, moving between the two. I wonder if this is possible. Only time will tell......

Where has the moon gone?

It was a full moon two nights ago. I'm not sure if we get bigger moons here but it was huge, like a massive silver cheese in the sky. In the normal pitch-black surroundings, the moonlight was like a torch beaming down. Last night the moon was big and bright (but obviously not quite as big as the night before). It proved useful to guide me home when I ended up having to walk back from our villas.

We've got some press staying at one of our villas and the journalist arrived last night. We accompanied them to their villa and then I whizzed off to get pizza for them. We're good like that, looking after our guests - when you've got two adults and two one year-olds who've just flown in and it's late, it's best to provide some food, not send them off in the direction of the nearest supermarket (about twenty minutes away) or point out any restaurants that might be open. Anyway, I went off to get pizza for them, slightly alarmed by the noise that my van has been making in recent weeks. In fact, it's been making this strange noise ever since I took it to the garage. It's as if I traded in one strange noise for another, one disappeared but another one took it's place. I got to the pizza place, ordered the pizzas and then headed back to our guests. I think this was one pizza delivery they were very glad to see and I'm probably slighty more glamorous than your average pizza delivery person. I stayed and chatted for a little while and then took myself off home as it was getting late.

I got in the van, started it and absolutely nothing happened. I tried again, and a second time, nothing. So I got out, grabbed my laptop out of the back and started walking home. The moonlight guided me all the way and it was really quite special having a late night walk and seeing everything bathed in silver. I got home twenty minutes later so at least I now know how long it takes to walk from our villas to our shop and home.

Tonight I noticed the moon has disappeared. It's strange, it's not cloudy as the sky is flooded with stars. But the moon is strangely missing. I'm wondering why that is? And I hope it makes an appearance soon. I've got to meet the photographer who is arriving later tonight and take him to the villa. The van is still not working (but fingers crossed will be up and running tomorrow morning) so once again, I've got to walk back from the villa. That walk isn't going to be quite the same without the moonlight - I must remember to take my torch!

Feeling just a little bit sad about it all.....

I was recently appointed Director of Sales and Marketing for our riad in Marrakech. Going by the pictures, the riad is beautiful but not really known so not as busy as it should be. There has never been a marketing strategy around it and this year had been particularly bad so it was time to take action.

We're already with a couple of online booking agencies for the luxury boutique hotel market but weren't with the main one in the UK, the one that is best known for the luxury boutique market. They had visited the riad last year and wanted to add it to their collection but Alberto had said no for some reason. I resumed the conversation with them again and have spent the last month or so building up a great relationship and rapport with the team there, including the editor-in-chief. They were delighted to now add the riad to their collection and on our side, we were also obviously delighted as now it meant that perhaps the riad would be full all year round.

While we were in London, the editor-in-chief and the head of PR and marketing went to stay at the riad for a couple of nights to do a review. I had an email from them yesterday - sadly standards had slipped considerably from the initial photos and we didn't make the cut. I completely understand where they are coming from - they are seen as purveyors of the highest standards and if these aren't met, they won't include a hotel in their list.

It's frustrating for me, I've put a lot into building this relationship and had a great rapport with everyone. But ultimately it makes me feel sad. Sad that Alberto and Yvonne create such beautiful places yet the people who are selected to look after them once they've disappeared onto their next project just don't seem to care. Or not care enough. We've received a list of things that weren't right. They're mainly small maintenance issues, things that would take a couple of hours to put right. But it appears that the general manager doesn't see them or is happy to let things slip. It's the same in the shop. When we came back yesterday, the floor was filthy, the beautiful wooden table we work at was covered in dirt and fag ash and the bin was overflowing. But the person who'd been working at the shop while we'd been away didn't seem to see any of this.

I just don't get it. How can people not see these things. Or how can they not care about something they've been given to run? Do I just care too much? Maybe I do but then again, I've made my name and reputation by delivering at the highest level on the projects that I've been asked to do. When I was running the Society last year, I gave it my all and put my heart and soul into it. After four months of being there, I knew that once the year was over, I'd be moving on to a new place to live. I could have just wafted through those last few months, doing as little as possible but still getting paid. But to me, the most important thing was to make sure the Society was being left on strong foundations and I gave it my all. I'm not blowing my own trumpet or trying to make myself sound better than others but I know what I've put into things and know what has been achieved as a result. It's how I work and the thought of being given a project and not really caring about it makes me shudder. Someone once asked me why I didn't just not deliver on something. I looked at him as if he was mad or had asked me something completely ludicrous and said "I always deliver, that's what I'm known for" - I just don't see the point of doing something half-heartedly - better not to do it at all!

We've now got our work cut out to return the riad to its former glory and sort out all the other issues. I always knew the challenge for me would be coming into things that are already in place but not working well. In the past, I've been involved in setting things up so you can make sure that all that needs to be done gets done at the right time, in the right fashion. This is something very new to me and I hope I can rise to the challenge. I have a reputation here for being strict and having high standards and I hope the people we work with understand the importance of these things and rise to the challenge themselves!

At this moment in time, I don't really know if I can make it happen. I don't question my own ability, I know I can do it. But I'm not sure that other people involved care enough to do what it takes. This is a beautiful operation that is not working well at all......

Sixteen weeks to go!

It's exactly sixteen weeks to go before my birthday and it's a big one! Yes, somehow I'm going to be turning 40 and I know that means that you're officially old but I don't feel like a nearly 40-year old! I certainly don't feel old and I don't look my age - I've had a couple of people recently guess my age as mid-twenties and when I saw Richard Spring a couple of weeks ago, he said to me "well, you still look like you're twelve and a half!" I appear to have aged in his eyes because before he said I looked like a twelve year old!

I was hoping to turn 40 married and with child or at least pregnant. Unless there is some miracle (and yes, I do believe in miracles!), I don't think it's going to be happening. But I still feel like I want to achieve something specific to mark turning 40 and seeing that most things have fallen into place in my life apart from the married/family thing, I've decided that I'm going to mark 40 by seeing if I can achieve a really flat toned stomach. And an almightly massive party to go on all day long.....

So, I've set myself a goal and a good one at that! Over recent years, I've noticed that my lower belly (ie below my belly button) seems to have a life of its own, one that involves protruding out. It's not a good look, I certainly don't like it so time for it to go. My past attempts at flattening my stomach have been haphazard but now there is a goal! So, ten minutes twice a day, every day until my birthday and lets see what happens! I hope it works, the rest of me is fine and swimming regularly keeps everything toned, everything apart from that belly that is.....

Back in London again!

Yes folks, here I am back in London again less than two weeks after I was last here. This time it's work-related - Alberto and I flew in for the Luxury Travel Fair. Although it's a public fair, we're looking for agents to work with for both Marrakech and Bali and thought best to see them when they're all collected together in one place.

Bizarrely, I wasn't as excited about coming back this time as I was two weeks ago. Makes me realise that my moods still fluctuate depending on hormones. It's not anywhere as bad as it used to be but there is a distinct difference in moods at various points of the month. Anyway, I digress, eventhough I wasn't falling over with excitement about this visit to London, driving around some of the most beautiful parts of Ibiza on Thursday made me feel wonderful again - the intense rugged beauty of the place takes my breath away time and time again!

We flew into London on Thursday evening, after a full day in the office and then straight to the fair on Friday. Initially Alberto was going to come on his own but then seeing that it's me who has to liaise with the agents, I decided that I should come too as there's little point in him coming alone and handing me a stack of business cards of people that I then need to build up a rapport with. We blazed our way round on the first day and got everything done, only needing to go back yesterday (Saturday) for a meeting with Music Concierge and for me to catch up with friends who were attending the fair.

It's been great seeing people's reaction to the places in Marrakech and Bali. Although these are both busy markets for luxury boutique hotels, I think our two places really do stand in a class of their own due to the design and interiors. I just hope that now we are actually doing some marketing, that we start to see results - Marrakech needs to be busy all year round and Bali needs to take off and fly from the launch date on. The challenge is on!

Yesterday was also the "nine months in Ibiza" mark for me so as always, good to see what has been done and achieved in that time!