Any pretensions to still being young I might have had are slowly evaporating. It does look like all around me, there is a slew of people having to face age related health problems. Over the weekend, I learned that someone close had a biopsy and was facing possible surgery over an enlarged prostrate. Someone else had somehow copped an ankle strain in April which hadn’t eased up since then and another one had significantly elevated blood pressures. ...
Each day - for the past two months and some - when I get off my bus and walk the couple hundred metres to the hole office I work at, I take a left turn off Union, down the dingy stairs via the back roads on to Guild street and then into work. Most days I am plugged into my iPod, listening to whatever catches my fancy on that day, hands in my pocket deep in thought. Nine days out of ten, just before I take the turn I see her - a lone black face bobbing in a sea of browns and whites, wrapped up to the nines waiting for her bus. She can’t be more than 5’-2", usually rocks a ‘fro and dangles her little bag in the tell-tale Nigerian chic ninety-degree arm pose. At first all there was were a couple of furtive glances, followed by the straight face pretending-I-never-took-a-peek look. And then with time, and the familiarity of a shared routine, there was the almost imperceptible nod and the odd mouthed greeting. ...
My memories of previous encounters with Indian cuisine are not exactly fond. The last time - an impromptu appearance at a leaving do for an Indian expat from work - I ended up tossing and turning through the night, tormented both bodily and mentally by masala dosa. Thanks to that, and my well documented lack of adventure when it comes to food, it was my last attempt at eating anything Indian- a full five years ago. ...
Memory is a strange thing. Even the most tenuous of links can breach the walls of enforced forgetfulness, triggering the release of a barrage of memories once thought to have been successfully sequestered deep beyond the reach of even the most pernicious of random triggers. There are the shared banalities, the simple everyday things which in themselves hold no sentimental value but which in the context of a shared life paradoxically serve to bridge the miles. She, bored in a work meeting, emailing you a doodle of the big fat goat head that is her boss, you roasting rice to dryness, setting off the fire alarms and eliciting mock sympathy from her, all in good faith. ...
Got this in my email today.. Talk about inventive proselytising.. I am actually tempted to call the numbers on the car..
Thankful for: Top blokes: Met up for dinner with a chap I once worked for in Nigeria. He was one of the more senior engineers on my first job, was in town participating in a design review and called me up for dinner. We met up at an Italian place in town. The nachos were delightful, the spaghetti and meat balls were awesome too, plus he paid. Now I know where to take the lasses I am eyeing to for a ‘spoiling’ session. :) Fortuitous nose bleeds: I haven’t had nosebleeds in a long time, at best they are unnecessary irritations at worst they can spoil a perfectly good day. In a first for me, a nosebleed saved my bum in a meeting just before I was due to get a grilling, talk about unintended consequences… Milestone birthdays: Someone really close turned fifty (not me). Thankful for the opportunity to have shared their life over the past few years.
Stumbled on this song whilst clearing out music on my old computer, and I fell in love with it all over again. 60 plays and counting in just over a day.
An unintended consequence of daily quotidian pursuits is the possibility of being sucked into a rut. Sleep, food, mind numbing work, the occasional tryst, the odd night out with the lads repeated ad nauseum and suddenly it is the middle of the year. In truth it has been a so-so year - the break up with EJ, a job offer that I eventually turned down, issues with my father and all the other niggling issues I am having to contend with. Amidst all this, the anti-immigrant rhetoric in the UK appears to have gone a level higher - everyone from layman to political leader is jumping on the bandwagon to decry the scourge of the immigrant. The latest changes been mooted are to limit migrant visas to a maximum five year term. That has significant implications for my ‘business model’. My decision to leave my Nigerian job and head back to school is increasingly looking daft. A Nigerian equivalent, the Petroleum Industry Bill which is meant to fundamentally reshape the industry and focus Nigerian Content Development has been in the works for a few years now, and is probably no where near being signed into law. ...
Lists appear to have suddenly become the leitmotif of the few blogs I read. From Don Miller sharing his fiancee’s list to Esco imagining the All Nigerian Girl, to AnyaPosh, Miss Enigma, Sting and all the lasses doing that 30 day blogging thing, everyone appears to be sharing bits and pieces of lists. When I was much younger I was a big fan of lists - on everything from five year goals and plans, gadgets to buy to what I wanted in a spouse - complete with excel spreadsheets which calculated weighted averages across the various categories. The one thing I didn’t bargain for was that it would become a mechanistic check-the-box-or-check-out exercise - that happened - nor did I question the basis on which the items were identified, or if indeed I was at a time and place where I could expect those qualities from others. ...
This morning on my commute into work - whilst plugged into my iPod staring out of the window as the city stirs to life - a little boy and a man I assume is his father catch my attention. They are seated two rows in front of me. The boy cannot be more than five by my reckoning, especially because he is dressed in the navy blue jumper that the school down the road from my stop uses for a uniform. The man has his arm around the boy who rests his head on his side. From where I am sat, I can hear them conversing in low tones. I am not close enough to make out what they are saying but in that moment I allow my mind roam. ...