Well, it's a new country actually, but I couldn't resist the chance to make profitable use of one of my favourite David Bowie titles. And, erm, it's more of a continuation of the tedious soap-opera that is my current career (if it can seriously be called that) than an attempt to embark on a new one. But what the hell, eh!
You see, I've just about had enough of the deceitful circus that passes for education (and therefore, teaching) in this Gulf country, and so I've decided to take a bit of a plunge and throw in the towel (apologies for the yawning cliches there, folks). So, it's goodbye to the beach and the soaring temperatures, and hello again to the caviar and the vodka.
Of course, there are other contributing reasons too, the most important one being that my wife needs to fulfil a two-year residence requirement in the UK before she can get her grubby hands on a British passport. Unfortunately, my attempts to bribe the commissioner at the British Embassy here with plentiful gallons of fermented yak's milk came to nowt, so I was left with no recourse but the legal way.
The new job's not too bad either. It's one of those 60-days-on, 30-days-off types, based somewhere near the Caspian Sea, and the tax-free mullah is quite generous - just a shade under 9,000 quid for the three months. The teaching's six hours per day for six days a week, which, if my memory serves me well, is just about do-able - provided certain 'refreshments' are readily available!
Anyway, I've no wish to divulge the exact location, lest some of my less charitable followers decide to put on some sort of reception committe for me upon arrival, but let me just say that my knowledge of Russian should come in extremely handy! Meanwhile, I'll be jetting back to Skidrow-on-Sea in a few days, and looking forward to reacquainting myself with the sophisticated delights of contemporary British culture in its urban setting.
Or even the suburban variety - it is Skidrow-on-Sea after all!