The day after tomorrow, I shall climb on board an Etihad Airbus, hope for rather more leg room than Sir Richard Branson thinks is appropriate and fly home to Britain for Christmas and New Year.
This means leaving the sunshine of Abu Dhabi, a climate to which I have managed rather easily to adapt, for a week and a bit.
It is likely still to be gorgeous when I return - this is said by all the seasoned expats to be by far the nicest part of the year - and will remain so for a few more months until the onset of the traditionally fierce summer. And that will be a test of my powers of endurance; in place of temperatures currently hovering just below 30 degrees, we can expect a punishing 50.
In the much shorter term, I need to prepare for the sharper climes of home (well home-ish....I fear a trip north may be out of the question, forcing me to miss two chances to see Sunderland at home).
Bear in mind that our cat, Monette, having grown up as a chic Parisian apartment pet before taking happily to a life chasing lizards and crickets in the south of France, is already turning up her nose at grey, London skies and a distinct chill in the air.
But I am experienced at moving from hot to cold and vice versa. My return from honeymoon - that's a photograph taken by the Stanley News at Lanchester shortly before my wedding in 1971 - involved only a journey from Paris to the North East, but it felt when we made it as if we were passing through a succession of climate zones.
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