An easy morning, followed by lunch with Sarah Jane's boss, Kaye, at the Hilton buffet. The buffet was excellent and so was the conversation, ranging over Emirati customs, financial situation, education, etc.
The hotel's clientele were less attractive: Brits and Europeans seeking the sun insulated from life outside the resort, mostly middle-aged, overweight and skimpily dressed, showing a good deal of sagging, sunburnt flesh.
After lunch we walked over to the sailing club that Sarah Jane has joined in order to be able to swim and manoeuver small boats around without the restrictions of the Emirati dress code. By contrast with the five-star Hilton's grand terraces and swimming pool, the sailing club's amenities consist of a couple of shabby buildings, one the boathouse, the other a bar. Outside, on a concrete terrace fronting the modest beach, an assortment of cheery, young to middle-aged expats lounge at chairs and tables under palm-thatched umbrellas. We gathered up the bits to rig one of the club's lasers and spent an hour inexpertly sailing it up and down the calm waters inside the breakwater watched by the gang under the umbrellas. The camera was safely back at the apartment; just as well since we all got rather wet.
We had to be up at 5 am. for the drive to the airport at Dubai, so it was an early night, although there was time first for a cuddle with the kittens whose mum shrewdly adopted Sarah Jane just before giving birth.
In the morning, after an hour's drive to reach the airport, we said goodbye to our favourite daughter, who had to drive back to RAK to teach a class.
It was a crowded, uncomfortable flight as far as Bangkok, but then, mercifully, about half the passengers disembarked. With lots of empty seats, we had a chance to stretch out on the Sydney leg. Nevertheless, we were still tired as we boarded the train back home to Katoomba in what would have been the small hours of the morning back in Ras al Kaimah.