Behind every great man

I have the most wonderfully supportive wife and we’ve made our situation work for us.

by John Mitchell-Ross

Happily married—but living alone in Abu Dhabi with my wife living in the UK—there are some who would say I’m living the dream, without the ties and responsibilities associated with day to day family life. How did I achieve this utopian state?

I had no notion of living the expatriate life until I met my wife. Without her influence, I’d have been content to live and work in the rural town of Derby, England; and hopefully would have prospered in my chosen career of accountancy (trust me, it’s not as dull as made out to be). With her, I have lived and worked in Kenya and now for the last 22 years in Abu Dhabi, experiencing things most people only read about in books or see on TV. I have been truly blessed as a result of her influence.

We moved to Nairobi in 1990, having been there six weeks earlier on honeymoon, and for the next three years we led the most wonderful life. Safaris, parties and entertainment were regular occurrences as we became caught up in the expat lifestyle. We also integrated into the local community through my work and made some wonderful Kenyan friends. It’s a shame these were the pre-email and pre-Facebook years as it has proved difficult to stay in touch with the vast majority of these friends and colleagues.

We moved back to the UK in 1993, after my wife became pregnant and we decided it would be better to raise our family back home.

This is possibly a decision with hindsight we regret, as we did love Kenya.

Family life took over and soon we had two wonderful daughters, with our second child born in 1995.

By this time we were living in Kidderminster in the heart of the UK’s West Midlands. My wife is very posh and doesn’t drop her H’s and properly pronounces her R’s (unlike her rough and ready husband). I joke that one day our eldest daughter returned from her Montessori nursery counting from 1 to 10 and after pronouncing five and nine in a broad West Midlands accent, that was it.

My wife’s decision was made—we were leaving, get us out of here, no child of mine will speak like that.

While this is a funny anecdote, what actually happened is we both pined for a return to the expat life and when a job opportunity came up in Abu Dhabi, it was too tempting to turn down. Most friends and relatives had no idea why we wanted to go live in Ethiopia, confusing Abu Dhabi with Addis Ababa.

We moved to Abu Dhabi in October 1996 with our two small daughters in tow. Again we lived the dream and settled into a truly blessed lifestyle. What a wonderful, safe and secure place to live and raise a family. What a lifestyle—everything I have ever wanted to do was available: sailing, motorsport and a desert playground for four wheel drive cars. It was utopia for me; and not too shabby for the family either! For the vast majority of our early years in Abu Dhabi, I was home by 3pm each day and able to spend quality time with the girls as they grew.

Fast forward nearly 10 years and by July 2005, the time felt right for our teenage daughters to seek a UK education and in my words ‘have the Britishness knocked back into them.’ So we took the hard decision for my wife and daughters to move back to the UK. I would follow them as soon as I could as I was working on a project critical for the company and it felt wrong not to see this through to completion.

To cut a long story short, upon completion of the project I was offered a promotion, more responsibility, and better career opportunities (read: more money). So I stayed in Abu Dhabi; and here I am 13 years later, with the family still living in the UK. (Although my eldest daughter now married is back in Abu Dhabi with her husband.)

What did I miss? First days at secondary school, girls becoming teenagers, school shows, parents’ evenings, Air Cadet parades, boyfriends knocking on the front door; the list goes on. Did the girls miss a father figure in the house? I don’t think I ever asked them. Did my wife miss having another adult to talk to?

Initially, during my visits home I would stroll into (my) house and become that father figure. Trying to assert some male control over the household, I would blow in like a whirlwind and then leave my wife to deal with the fallout once I returned back to Abu Dhabi. After a few trips back home, my wife actually took me aside and told me under no uncertain terms that she was in charge of the house, she controlled the girls and that, unfortunately, I was nothing more than a visitor in my own home. But how right she was, and how wrong I had been. And what a great job she was doing too—I can see that so clearly now. So back to Abu Dhabi I went with my tail between my legs!

Clearly an indicator that she is a great woman, totally in control and having the respect (and fear) of the girls!

I’ve missed so much. How did we get ourselves into this position? My desire to provide for my family and establish financial security. Well, I think I have hopefully adequately ticked that box. Both girls have graduated university without the burden of student debt. I was very much of the view that as my parents had fully supported me through university I had to do the same for my daughters, so I did.

It’s not been all negatives of course. I’ve lived the life in Abu Dhabi as a part-time bachelor. Free from the shackles of family responsibility (but within the realms of sensibility—as I am a sensible and cautious person by nature), I’ve done what I want, when I want. Sailing, desert trips, motorsport; I’ve done it all and not had to seek permission or synchronise calendars.

I have the most wonderfully supportive wife and we’ve made our situation work for us.

So am I selfish? Yes, possibly.

Am I stupid? To a degree.

Am I lucky? Yes! I have the love and support of a great person and exceptional wife.

Do I regret it? Not for one minute.

We all have choices and decisions to make in life. We made ours, drew up a plan, and have made it work for us. For me, the adage is definitely true. Behind every (great?) man is an even greater woman. ■

John Mitchell-Ross