Really. I am not. I am only wearing this t-shirt because it looks good on me and goes with my skin tone. I am not even a football fan. The last time I sat down to see a full – length football match was the 1994 World Cup game between Nigeria and Bulgaria. It was one way to show my patriotism and I also wanted to get a feel of the ‘unifying bond’ that I heard football brings along with it. Believe me, I did not pay a kobo for this t – shirt. So how did I get here? Wearing this t-shirt and denying the club it represents? My beau is a sports fan. Tennis (table & lawn), cricket, golf, rugby, snooker, athletics, seasonal swimming…and football. He is the Chelsea fan. A true blue. Like all the other sports he’s interested in, he can talk extensively about football but, most especially, about Chelsea FC – its players, its playing, its highs & lows, its history and its managers. Not surprisingly, he loves Jose Mourinho. One of his first club t-shirts was a black and white creation with the inscription ‘Special One’ written behind. He was not an entirely happy man during the years Mourinho was away from Chelsea. My beau also had a lanyard and a scarf. Paraphernalia of the club that were things around his neck on the days Chelsea played and days they didn’t. His daughter, T, was first introduced to this passion of his days after she was born when he named her after the club. And I knew something wasn’t right when, a year after marriage, I could name all the players on the field and on the bench! Tufiakwa! Where did that come from? I don’t even like football! But, for a little less than 10 years, I have lived with a football enthusiast. That enthusiasm seems to be slowly rubbing off on me. I won’t let it! I have caught myself sitting through a few minutes of a game and listening to my beau’s praise or sudden burst of exclamation in anger at”moreRead More
Drinks – red, blue, peach and other inviting colours – welcome us at the lounge, and of course more optics as our numbers grow. In the middle of drinking, smiling, talking and photos, little brother drops his glass and starts wailing about his blue drink. I’m just wondering: who is going to clean up the mess?Read More
T will be back in the next post…hopefully. She’s still writing up the reception piece of her ‘Sand, Sun & (loads of) Fun’ series. It’s quite a lot and it’s almost taking her underwater but she’s breathing just fine. While she’s at it, I decided to slip this in. Come November 1, I will join thousands worldwide to begin the National Novel Writing Month challenge. Do I have an idea for a novel? No. Will I have one by Saturday? I doubt it. So I am engaging in the challenge because… I don’t write enough. I don’t write often. And I don’t write often enough. I’m not sure why but I think I can attribute it to feeling overwhelmed with all my roles overlapping, with all the multitasking, that writing constantly is put in storage. A far cry from hitting the burners; let alone the front one. It is that bad. T had to step in on my behalf while I picked myself up from where life left me. I’m just doing that how many posts later??? What the heck! This is not me. This is not the me I want to be. And this is where NaNoWriMo enters. It is an annual internet-based creative writing project that takes place during the month of November. NaNoWriMo challenges participants to write 50,000 words (1, 667 words daily) of a new novel from November 1 until the deadline at 11:59PM on November 30. The goal of NaNoWriMo is to get people writing and keep them motivated throughout the process. To ensure this, the website provides participants with tips for writer’s block, local places writers participating in NaNoWriMo are meeting, and an online community of support. The idea is to focus on completion instead of perfection, on the length of a work rather than the quality, encouraging writers to finish their first draft so that it can later be edited at the author’s discretion. Organizers of the event say that the aim is simply to get people to start writing, using the deadline as an incentive to get the story going and to”moreRead More
So that’s why we’re here. To celebrate both of them.
All that travelling, the family gathering and everything else was geared towards this most important day of their lives; their wedding day. Starting their lives together, forever.
This was the desert safari, I came to know later. More like the desert – roller coaster – ride – of – near- freaking – death, if you ask me! Was I being punished for complaining earlier on? About the never – ending sand and no – destination driving? Right now, I’ll take those over this…this…We dip again.Read More
The breakfast upstairs was just a promise of what was to come. And when it came, I took my pick of almost the entire lot and stuffed my face. Besides the food, going for breakfast helped me hone my elevator operator skills.Read More
How can anyone want to sleep with a view like this? I can’t help asking silently as I join little brother by the wide windows to stare at the scene spread out in front of us. We are presently in our hotel apartment, having showered and done lunch downstairs. Though it’s only 9 a.m. back in Lagos. This country is three hours ahead. And oh yes, I assumed my elevator operator duties with mummy as my guide to the appropriate letters, numbers and signs buttons. Thus beginning my goal to take a lifetime’s worth of rides before we leave this place. My love for elevators is only second to that of escalators. On our way back up, I overhear mummy say to dad: ‘All I want to do now is sleep. For 13 hours straight.’ Looking out at the scanty street below, I think she does need the sleep. She has bags (under her eyes) that could possibly rival that black one she carries. She must have slept for only an hour or two during the flight while ensuring her children were comfortable. Mummy knows all too well that we’ll both soon tire of this view, so she works on the TV set in the parlour and finds the only cartoon channel available. In a flash, we abandon the window and its amazing view for ‘Uncle Grandpa’. Then she stretches out on the longest – looking sofa for her beauty sleep. Big mistake. The parlour has just enough space for little brother and I to do three things almost at the same time — chase each other, stare through the wide windows AND still throw in cartoon watching. The combined noise from the TV and ours is a LITTLE bit too much. What kind of sleep is mummy hoping to get in the middle of all these? And for how long? Not long because she’s soon sleepily telling us to keep it down. As she attempts to sleep again, the intercom (I hadn’t noticed that before) close to her gives off a startlingly ring. Ah, something else to get my”moreRead More
I disagree with mummy on the three Suns theory. There are five of them. Their collective glare nudges me awake again but with little impact this time. I’m still safely ensconced in the bus and when I look out the window, nothing prepares me for what I see.Read More
I’m still trying to figure out how he’s connected to this trip. Grandma, Uncle Jnr and another uncle I do not know show up in the house two days after mummy’s packing begins. Going to grandma’s is definitely not where we are going. So where, where were we headed this time?Read More