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August in review: I can’t keep calm
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G.L.i.B-bed: Share, share, share
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G.L.i.B-bed: Worie
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G.L.i.B-bed: Shackling a continent
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Adventures in school run: Two out of many
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Adventures in school run: What the truck?!
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Adventures in school run: A uniform approach
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G.L.i.B – bed: The funny thing is…
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G.L.i.B – bed: Ghana Must Go
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Adventures in school run: Been there, done that

Adventures in school run: Two out of many

The celebrant was besides himself with excitement. Had been for the last couple of days but last night’s intoxication reached fevered pitch as we assembled the components of the packs and allowed the balloon reach its full- blown potential to distract. That he managed a nine – hour snooze in continuum afterwards could only be the hand of God. In the morning, he was up like a shot – to ascertain it wasn’t all a dream- and assist in arranging them neatly in the car, the first being the balloon, of course!

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Adventures in school run: Been there, done that

Good morning…let the stress begin… Enter the jaws of hell that is school run… The mad dash of crazy that has to be condensed into 10 minutes of sheer hell… Some downright brutal descriptions of that mundane activity parents/guardians engage in on school days. I’m in that camp as well (not the extreme descriptions) and think those 10 minutes can be as unpredictable as a Nigerian politician. Here are my stories. Three mothers from the children’s school have formed a walking club. I saw them this morning, decked out in workout amour and footwear, headphones in place and walking briskly in tune with one another and their music. Apparently, they begin immediately after they drop their wards off, traipsing round the estate in which the school is situated. For two years, my routine was inextricably tied to morning school run. Scratch that. Like the women above, it began after morning school run. Five days a week, I’d make the 15- minute walk back home (come rain or shine) as I listened to the radio, basking in the cool morning haze as the sun was just beginning to lend some of its tender early rays. It never felt like exercise. No huffing. No puffing. No sweating. Just another way to indulge in my own company and clear my head, unconsciously getting a workout in the process. I was getting two for one – alone time and regular exercise. (It was reminiscent of another walking habit developed during my time in the corporate world, about a decade ago. For 30 minutes every evening after work, I walked off baby fat lodged, unbudgingly and bulgingly, in my midriff. The nearest bus-stop from the office was half an hour away on foot and after whining about it for a month or so, I stopped begrudging the distance, hitching a ride or going commercial-vehicle style; instead I walked off the weight and the distance. Initially, it was brisk strides in the early evening’s soothing weather; then my steps acquired a leisurely spring to them as I unburdened the stress of the day and reveled in”more

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