Abu Dhabi is a truly wonderful place to live. The abundance of sun, sea and sand means there’s none of this ‘seasonal affective disorder’ nonsense; even if you did happen to be affected by the rather conveniently named condition SAD, then the breathtaking natural scenery of the undulating deserts and the lush mangroves would surely take your mind off it anyway.

Written by Jon Muller

There’s an almost endless variety of places to eat, an abundance of concerts to go to and an ever increasing number of world-class sporting events that the capital puts on.

And then there’s the amazing architecture – the stunning beauty of the Grand Mosque, the pure luxury of Emirates Palace, the leaning extravagance of Capital Gate and the sheer uniqueness of the shining smartie that is Aldar’s headquarters.

But it’s not just the architecture; it’s how fast it’s thrown up. It’s an impressive enough feat to make some noise about. Which Abu Dhabi does.

I’m lucky enough to live slap-bang in the centre of town and in the year I’ve lived in Abu Dhabi I’ve seen the tower block next door to my building demolished, the area cleared, the ground broken, foundations piled and, in a flurry of activity over the last three months, nearly 12 floors have been erected by the swarm of builders that seem to constantly occupy the site.

But with such incredible progress, comes a bit of a headache. For me, at least.

At six o’clock every single morning, regular as clockwork, I’m rudely awakened by a solitary man and his hammer banging on a metal tube. His ‘a cappella’ prelude is normally sufficient to ensure all traces of somnolence are banished, but, just to make sure, he is gradually accompanied by more and more members of his construction crew and their equipment, rising in a crescendo until I’m subjected to the full mechanical maelstrom of the structural symphony and I’m finally forced from the haven of my bed to seek the solace of the shower.

I accept that living in the city I’m not going to be gently roused from my slumbers by the sweet sound of birdsong or the gentle burbling of a country stream. I also appreciate that living in such an amazing and rapidly developing urban landscape requires some sacrifices and the price of progress might be a little temporary disruption … I just wish that man would swap his hammer for a rubber mallet! Until then, I’ll be reaching for some industrial rubber ear-plugs.