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For the prompts Far far landing on We Write Poems and Mag 130 on the Magpie tales the distance claimed you - seven rivers, seven valleys and seven mountains too. fuzzy memories,shadows wrapped around browned skin - like a caul - hide you; till like a distant shimmering mirage you fade into the space where sky meets earth and where like a pilgrim I have been drawn by the call of the muezzin. the old women by the river tell tales- of muttered blessings of redemption, and of rebirths where like butterflies shedding their cocoons we may arise in peace on that far flung, far far landing.

An altogether forgettable weekend - and at my age they all are - is bookended by a pit stop at Union Square for lunch with a friend of a friend. A random conversation a couple of weeks ago about (yet another) mutual friend and my lack of proactivity had ended up in a challenge of sorts being issued in my direction. Three phone calls later - with a few text messages thrown in - I end up making my way up the stairs towards the safe bet that is Nandos for a quick bite and chat. I arrive early - knowing Union Square, getting a table can be a hassle on sunny Sunday afternoons - the added advantage being that I get to see her first, and the satisfaction that she fits the image I have of her in my head. We order simple food - lime and herb flavoured chicken with a mixed leaf salad for me and a ratatouille for her and bottomless drinks and make small talk over the course of an hour and a half. All told it is a pleasant afternoon, and but for the fact that I have dodgy genes, and family history I would already be inventing scenarios involving white picket fences and 2.1 kids in my head. :) Given the choice, I would most certainly like an encore by all accounts. ...

For the prompt at Magpie Tales. I couldn’t shake the impression of distance from my mind (he is looking in her direction, whilst she is looking into the distance) A Dinner Table at Night, 1884, John Singer Sargent There is silence here - There is fear, and the dense Stultifying pall of hurt- and of memories unresolved. I have been here before- On the cusp of this uncharted Sea, tottering on the edge Of this yawning chasm, willing Myself like a puppet on a string To not tip over, to not Be swallowed up in the flames Of the Sango death ritual; Like a mannequin sinks- Weighed down by a necklace Of milestones - into the depths Of a cold calm sea. Water drops glistening In the subtle shade of red lamps, Wine shimmering in the barely there light Cannot fade the gloom; And in her eyes as she looks away For one last time Is the cold detached lost-ness Of a tomorrow that will never be.

More of the same fare form the last few months I think: MoSli’s gone dark this last week, prior to that we had good conversations, even providing [largely unhelpful] thoughts on some dresses she was looking to order for her big 3-0 birthday jaunt. Mme.P emailed out of the blue - I’d missed the opportunity to catch up with her when she was in London and quite frankly I was beginning to think it was an opportunity that was long lost., fingers crossed Meesha and I have had two telephone conversations which ended very well if i say so, and we’ve a meetup planned. On a strategy level, I do need to get some clarity in my head. Have been reading the He’s Just Not That Into You, and I suppose some of the excuses hit close home. Long story short, if I really am into a girl, I have to toss off my natural reservations and let her know….. Interesting ...

The sun is out, belatedly, and in its weakly warm, barely there, almost autumnal pall I feel a small sense of relief that summer has not passed us by in its entirety out here in our little wind swept corner of the world. Not since the back end of May have we had weather remotely resembling summer; and with this tiny sliver of sunshine comes the urge to go out and do something. Thankfully Union Square with all its delights - and sun bathed open spaces - is only a brisk ten minute walk away from work, so I make a few phone calls and get my two friends from across town to agree to a meetup to catchup over lunch. We end up - and there must be no prizes for guessing here - at Nandos and we order our now standard fare, a platter of peri-peri chicken and a variety of sides to share. I go for a mixed leaf salad - between Sister #1 and the Irish drinkard, calorie counting has become my new obsession. My buddies, not shackled by the need to rein in bulging waistlines - both go for other less healthy options; OOO going for two sides of rice and Og going for a large serving of peri-peri salted chips. Between placing my initial order, and getting my loyalty card swiped, it turns out my last but one visit has entitled me to an extra half serving of chicken, which I add to my current order. All told we end up binging on a chicken and a half in the hour we spend there. Fully fed, with sagging guts and brains groaning at the small matter of another four hours of work, we down our coffees and leave to start heading back up to work. Having safely dispatched them to their cars, I settle in on one of the benches in front of the Union Square building to catch another half hour of sunshine before heading back to work. ...

A sudden bout of hunger assails me just before the clock chimes 5.00pm and I find myself making a detour - turning left at Guild Street and then making a beeline for the KFC on Union Street. Usually at this time of the day the singular focus is to get myself home, settle on my couch with a bowl of cold cereal and unwind with a Big Bang Theory/How I Met Your Mother TV marathon. Even the spectre of steaming morsels of eba potentially chasing themselves down my throat in short order is not enough to draw me home - the coup de grâce is, I suspect, the fact that it has been the better part of six months since I have savoured the fiery goodness of battered, deep fried chicken. ...

Measured against the original iteration of the five year plan, my life couldn’t be more off target than it is at the moment - I had myself getting married at 26 with two children done and dusted by the time I turned 30, a PhD being progressed, and being on course to retire at 40. At the time I was sitting on the veritable cash cow that was a plum job assuring integrity for a Nigerian operator, and the thoughts of retiring at forty were in part due to the very generous pension provisions at the time. ...

As far as epiphanies go, I suspect my latest one - bang in the middle of stooping to grab some soap whilst running a warm shower - stands right there as one of the more unexpected. The epiphany was the realisation, somewhat belatedly from the looks of it, that any pretensions of continuing youth I may have retained no longer hold water. Where once I could hide behind being under 30, and then being just over 30, turning 33 means that I am nearer 35 than 30. There goes what was at best a tenuous grip on wannabe coolness! ...

The worst thing is the waiting - the alternative flip-flopping between the giddy heights of anticipation and the cold, calculated, calmness of detached pragmatism. Somehow or the other I have managed to find myself waiting on responses back from a whole slew of people - the Professor I am looking to work with on the Welding Program at Northern, the PRI Coordinator who needs to revert with a date for my Professional Review Interview and the neither here nor there email and skype exchanges between myself and Mlles S and P. ...

The one thing I feared would happen post Sister #2’s wedding was that the pressure to deliver on a steady relationship and marriage would get ratcheted up a few notches, and boy did it happen! the very next morning, Mum tried to visit with the kid brother and I, ostensibly to catch up with us, with the subtle undertone of trying to find out what our demob plans were. We managed to escape on that morning, but we could only do so for so long. I eventually got a right good earful, with a few recommendations tossed in my direction for follow up - not bad in and of themselves except for the small matter of the fact that these were people from church I didn’t know, and hadn’t seen for close on ten years. ...