An eventful day, or not, depending on which part of the world you are in currently.
The news continues to be dominated by the war next door, and (of course) on how people are fleeing the UAE and Dubai is getting empty.
Then I set out in my car to find a suitable glass board for my home office, and get stuck in traffic. So much for the empty bit.
Tired of reading obituaries about Dubai, and not really interested in issuing clarifications on a daily basis. I think Dubai will do what it excels in – rolling up its sleeves, digging in and working hard to prove the skeptics wrong.
In my own little way, I will do the same.
For now, I leave you with an oft-read and much admired piece by Rudyard Kipling, titled IF. Quite apt for the moment it is.
See you tomorrow!
IF
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!