Interwoven

"We are all connected"

I see my clients as my 'daughters' (younger), sisters (same age) and mothers (older) - depending on their age and disposition :) 

This morning's client was one of my 'mothers'. As I started working on her locs, we talked about a recent funeral and family reunion and she asked where my people were from. 

When she found out that I was from Peckham, she said "I used to know a Bajan family who lived in Peckham... both parents were from Barbados, they lived on Kirkwood Road and the dad was called ... " 

"VINCENT!" we both cried in unison. 

"THAT'S MY DAD! I giggled (honestly, how old am I ????) 

What followed was a trip down memory lane. She knew everyone I had grown up with, each family in our little Caribbean community down in SE London. She knew my godfather and godmother, my aunties and my cousins and EVERYBODY. Man! What a trip. 

Imagine that! 

- To have known my parents and worked with them before they moved back to Barbados. 

- To have met up with them (and even picked them up from my old flat) when my parents have visited on their annual trips back to London...

- To have played with and watched over me as a child at Saturday school, 

- To be just as familiar with my 'people' as I but never knowing that it was ME standing behind her head and working her locs all this time!

What a privilege to be able to touch the head of someone my parents held in such high regard! You know I had to call my daddy straight away!

The child that would have sat on her knee being ministered to, now ministering to her in a different way. I am feeling pretty blown away at the moment. 

#preciousMoments #notjustaHairStylist #SisterlocksSisterhood #allConnected

No Private Numbers!

I've put up with this for years, but enough is enough: invariably if I answer these calls it turns out to be:


1. head hunter/recruitment officer (dude, I am on maternity leave - don't call me, I'll call you! - well I would if your number wasn't private)

2. insurance salesman (how did you get my UNLISTED number?)

3. mobile phone salesman (how did YOU get my UNLISTED number?) offering me an upgrade when we both know that I am not eligible for another 16 months!

4. the office (if you're calling me now it can't be for anything good so I'd rather not know, thanks)

5. some other stranger I do not want to speak to.



So, if you're calling me from a blocked/private number - leave a message cos I'm not picking up. (The only exception to this rule is Verlon... cos I like you).


[Verse 1:]
Soh who could it be
Ah who dem ah pre
Nuh call mi fone if you nuh wah mi fi see
Infarma work fi ah fee
Feds dem nuh lef mi be
Dem tops mi fone spy out like the KGB Yo!
So if you no you number block nuh budda call mi
Cah mi nah goh answa even if ah mi mammy
Yo ah regula dem kip it up block dem call
But mi nuh pick it up
Some likkle gyal ah stark mi

[Chorus: x2]
Mi ask
Who's calling me from ah unknown number
Wi nuh answer nuh unknown number
Nah pick it up if it's a private call
Gangster nuh answa nuh private call

[Verse 2:]
Yo! if you call mi fone
Mi wah si 1 plus di area code
Plus di digit everyting fi show
Cause if you private di number and call mi
Mi wah if si who is it how mi ah goh no?
Number hav fi show pon di ID cah mi dun store
Some ah mi friend name BLING DOG, MOVADO AND DI SON OF MISS IVY
people who ah mek private call dem should avoid me

[Chorus: x2]
Who's calling me from ah unknown number
Wi nuh answer nuh unknown number
Nah pick it up if it's a private call
Gangster nuh answa nuh private call

[Verse 3:]
Soh who could it be
Ah who dem ah pre
Nuh call mi fone if you nuh wah mi fi see
Infarma work fi ah fee
Feds dem nuh lef mi be
Dem tops mi fone spy out like the KGB Yo!
So if you no you number block nuh budda call mi
Cah mi nah goh answa even if ah mi mammy
Yo ah regula dem kip it up block dem call
But mi nuh pick it up
Some likkle gyal ah stalk mi...


and on a serious (and not so serious note):
http://livinginbarbados.blogspot.com/2008/06/whos-calling-me-from-unknown-number.html

Tallerists - 0, Me - 3

So, with the advent of pregnancy and the onset of my battle with hyperemesis gravidarum - my updates on the war against tallerism have dried up... until now.

Since my last series of posts, we've moved house and now live a 7 min walk away from a station that takes me directly to work within 20 mins (thus enabling me to return to the office). It was on said train that this incident occured.

After quietly watching the minutes tick by on my watch, we finally arrived at my stop. Surprisingly enough, it seemed as though half the train wanted to get off at this stop. I took a quick look at my exits (equidistant) and chose the one I thought had a shorter queue.

A couple minutes later - with commuters still pouring off the train (noone had managed to board yet), the driver sounded the alarm to indicate the train was about to depart. Amazing how a steady 'peep peep peep peep' can inspire such animal reactions in 'normal' people.

A wave of panic spread through the carriages, heralded by groans and moans, as people spilled out onto the platform... there was trampling and squishing and pushing... ahead of me there was a female tallerist, another woman and a couple of men struggling to make it through the closing doors. My impaired speed (re: awkward shape and added weight) was no match for the electronics in those doors... I was not gonna make it off...

I don't know what came over me, I swear, but that wave of panic gripped me. There was no way I could stay on this train a second longer - I needed to puke, I needed fresh air, I needed my freedom...

Without realising what I was doing, I made a jump for the door: in one olympic bound I leapt into the air, landing nimbly on Lady Tallerist's back while she elbowed her way through the door - carrying me safely with her.

Once on the platform, I deftly slid off her back and planted my feet firmly on the ground as the train pulled away.

Amidst the throngs of disgruntled commuters packed along the platform, realisation sunk in... I had just jumped on a total stranger's back in order to get off the train. I had ridden someone like a camel!

I quickly looked around, Lady Tallerist was looking around in bewilderment rubbing her back. I'm guessing she was trying to figure out what had happened to her... was it the crowd pressing against her back or had someone ridden her out?

Without thinking I said : 'Thanks!' and rubbed my belly... she looked even more confused... I figured now was as good a time as any to disappear (before she figured out what I was thanking her for). I ducked between two tallerists and let the crowd take me out of the station.

Top side, I thought about what I'd done and how it must have looked. A petite pregnant woman jumping on a woman's back in order to get out a train in time.

I hang my head in shame (while laughing all the same).

Sometimes I shock myself.
yee-hah

Tallerists - 0, Me - 2

Oh yes!

After a couple of months of successfully avoiding any run-ins with the dreaded tallerists - today we met again.

Picture the scene: a busy London rail station during rush hour... lots of people scurrying about trying their best to catch connecting trains in their desperate bids to get home.

Lots of small people, tall people, tallerists (Tall people with no concept of social etiquette or consideration of smaller people), and of course me: the champion of the cause for petite people everywhere!

Happily humming away to 'Kick Push' (anyone spot the problem yet?) by Lupe Fiasco, I was purposefully strolling along, safe in the knowledge that I had a good 7 minutes before my train would depart. All my carefully laid plans had paid off, life was good.

Out of the corner of my eye (here we go again), I spy a tallerist headed my way. Why did this one stand out from the others? His face was back-to-front.

Quite simply, he was looking the other way, behind him in fact... his body was directed towards me - which is where his feet were carrying him, but his nose and eyes were focused on something 165 degrees in the other direction.

My 'tallerist radar' can spot these muppets a mile off. Why? Cos I just know they're gonna walk into me. People tend to think that I am exaggerating when I rant about these scenarios - but just the other day I happened to be walking next to a normal sized colleague and she witnessed firsthand as a tallerist ploughed straight into me.

"Didn't he see you?" she asked, shaking her head in disbelief.
I rolled my eyes and muttered something like 'ya see what I been saying all this time?' Stupse.

Anyway, here was my radar beeping like crazy, and here's me - analysing the way the crowd is moving, seeking a path to safety, a way out of ANY kind - and finding none... so I assume the brace position.

No. I didn't curl up into a fetal ball like a millipede...
Instead, I pulled myself up straight and puffed my chest out, so that if I was a porcupine all my quills would have been standing on end.

I didn't speed up, nor did I slow down. By now Redman's 'Time for Some Aksion' was blasting through my ears - alongside my alert system screaming "brace! brace!" as the tallerist with the back -to-front face bears down on me.

Just before impact, I have time to wonder how Back-to-Front face man has managed to walk in a straight line without once looking at where he was going...

The collision wasn't nearly as bad as I'd expected.
It only slightly knocked me off my previous trajectory, AND I landed on my feet, as if I'd merely jumped over a can of paint.
It didn't even knock my headphones out of my ears!

The tallerist didn't fare so well.
I put on my back-to-front face (a trick I'd learned from him) and looked over my shoulder to see whether he'd survived... all I could see was a crumpled mass with eyeballs on top that were looking at me in bewilderment.

Bewilderment that turned to misdirected fury as I threw my head back and cackled... all the way down the platform.

Why?

Amidst that crumpled mass of flesh and bone, I'd noticed something.

His head was finally facing forward.

The Elevator Speech

So there I am in the elevator with the global head of xxxx at my company, so what do I say?

Years of training, etiquette and priming have come down to this. This is my chance to shine - I must use my elevator speech...(that specially preapred 45 second spiel that explains who I am and what I do).

I've already said Hello, and he's asked me how I am doing... I need a bridge to help me launch my speech, so that I don't sound like a rehearsed robot. What to say?

I notice him looking at my sneakers... inwardly I groan, oh no, he must be wondering why I am not in 'business attire' (since trainers are on the not-allowed-to-wear-in-off

ice list).

I know:

I open my mouth and I say:

"I have orthotics in my shoes"

it was meant to sound explanatory but it comes out all proud like.

He gives me a funny look: 'erm... '
he opens and closes his mouth, he thinks about it and obviously decides that I am retarded and so he kindly replies: 'so do I'

I look at his shoes

Ain't no way he has orthotics in them.
He sees me about to open my (stupid) mouth again and quickly cuts in:

"Are those 'New Balance?'" he asks pointing at my shoes

"Yes" I say (secretly impressed that he recognised the brand)

He smiles kindly, the way an adult does to a child who can't understand much but has to wear thick glasses, special shoes or braces...


"I have those too"...


Then he presses the button and hops out the lift.

.

.

.

.

My 45 seconds to make an impression and all I could say was: "Hey dude, I got special shoes!"

Tallerists - 0, Me - 1

23 September 2007 at 21:40
Today I was A Bowling Ball

A couple weeks ago I had one of the greatest triumphs in my war against tallerists.

Set the scene by picturing a flock of 6 tallees waiting for the elevator; picture the elevator arriving with about 8 occupants in it (including myself) all trying to get out.

So the longer legged co-works exit the car and head on about their business. The flock of 6 are impatient and begin their attempts to enter the car - long before all those wanting to exit have been able to do so.

Where am I? Stuck at the back of the elevator car cos I don't have as much pushing power as the big uns...

Unlike the flock of 6 - I know how to wait patiently... I've had it drummed into me through the feet of multitudes of tallerists who couldn't be asked to look down and see me.

The occupants are all out - save me... and of course, the flock of 6 haven't seen me... they all advance upon the car at once... and I realise that if I don't make a move now - I'll miss my stop and end up travelling back upstairs with the flock!

I took a deep breath and ran towards the sliding doors as fast as I could.

They never saw me coming!

I can only imagine the looks of shock and confusion that accompanied their cries of pain as I morphed into a bowling ball and collided with their knees and shins... PA POW!

Boy did I have fun!

I knocked them over left right and centre... and since I'd picked up speed despite the collisions, I managed to disappear around the corner before they could grab and throttle me!

My last glance as I looked over my shoulder - before disappearing - was the sight of the decimated flock of 6, tumbling into the elevator car, moaning and clutching at their shins and knees... bewilderment and rage etched across their faces.

The fight is on!

Another Reason to Despise Tall People!

07 September 2007 at 19:03

Today I decided to wear my nice black top. Ladies - you know what I mean - cos we all have nice tops - the one you wear that makes everyone look your way... that's right. Well I broke out mine today ... and I took extra care when putting it on NOT to get any of my deodorant on it - cos you know that it really sucks when you get those white deodorant marks on your black stuff - such a pain to get off and if you don't notice before you leave the house, you end up looking like a fool all day!

So ... just as I am about to put on my jacket and go... I see hubby - fresh out the shower - but looking all tired and frustrated. So I go over to give him a kiss and a hug and tell him he'll be great and can sleep in on the weekend - I'll sort out the kids... (he's just come back from 10 days in NY followed by a day in Zurich - all for work and is jet lagged).

He breaks into a smile and reaches out his arms, enveloping me in a bear hug, I feel great until I hear him say "%@*!"...

I look up - he looks at me. He looks guilty.
I look at my shirt... I now have (HIS) deodorant marks on the tops of my shoulders.

He pats me on the head and scuttles away...

!!!!!!!!!!

Why I Hate Tall People!

19 July 2007 at 12:05

So, having managed to sail through a couple of weeks without any coffee stains or burns... I encountered an event this morning *sigh*

There was I, happily whizzing around the staff restaurant filling orders for my team: Birdie's "dry cappuccino", DOW's tea " milky no sugar"; Waterman's 'Masala Chai' ; croissants and toasted bagels... I was in fine form, seeing as how I hadn't dropped anything...

While heading towards the grills to collect the last bagel - a smile on my face and a spring in my step - in the corner of my eye, I noticed a tall person approaching from my right.

I adjusted my speed and direction to avoid a collision and continued forward...

Still I am puzzled as to why the tall one: 'Mr Tallee' continues to consume increasing amounts of my peripheral vision...

my footsteps falter... "can't he see me?"

Now directly in my path, I note that unlike myself, Mr Tallee has not adjusted his speed or gait and is in fact speaking to a fellow tallee to my left.. I am trapped on both sides!

My body stiffens: "Fight or Flight"?

I speed up.

But what is 3 petite footsteps to a giant?
He could do a 100m sprint in 3 strides. Honest!
I wait for the inevitable and brace myself for impact; wincing as kneecaps collide with ribs and I find myself tasting the leather of his belt.

At LAST Mr Tallee notices me, and looks down in surprise to see me crumpled around his ankles.

"Oh, Sorry" he says and helps me re-attach my femur.

I glare at him and hobble off.

And this is why I hate tall people almost as much as I hate coffee.

Why I Hate Coffee

The morning of October 4th began like any other.Out of bed by 6am, breakfast, shower, tv - at work by 7:30, nothing unusal.

Around 7:40 am I sauntered up to the corporate restaurant in search of sustaining nutrients, and decided on a small bowl of porridge and some fruit.

I joined the queue of half asleep corporate zombies, waiting to pay for their fancy sounding doses of morning stimulants. While standing there, I allowed myself some extra down time... I was away with the fairies as the British might say...when suddenly my reverie was interrupted by someone speaking to me apologetically:

"I'm so sorry" blubbered the blonde lady beside me.

I was totally confused... What was she sorry for? Was she talking to me? And why is my leg suddenly hurting me? What's this hot wet thing against my leg?

I look down and through the blinding pain, I notice my ebony black trousers have an unusual latte coloured streak down them that wasn't there when I bought them...

"I'm really really sorry" blondie is still babbling...

Then it hits me - I snap out of fairy land and realise that sleepy blonde lady has
emptied ALL of her skinny latte down my leg and over my shoes (thank God I wasn't wearing my suedes!)

I let out a long sigh. Blondie scurries away to find paper towels, restaurant staff wipe up the floor - not that there is much to clean since my trousers have absorbed most of it!

I sponge off as best I can and return to my desk with one dark brown trouser leg peppered with white fluff - minor scalds to my thigh and calf - and smelling like a million STARbucks.

And this is another reason why I hate coffee, its victims obviously can't function (in terms of hand-eye coordination) without it.

Bah humbug!

The Battle With Goliath

It has not been an easy road - this journey I've had to travel.
I'm not talking about the general journey of life that each of us takes, I'm talking about a particular leg of my journey... one that started just over a year ago and brought me face to face with my Goliath.

This was a journey I had to travel on my own, a journey which - despite the encouragement of others - was rather unpleasant for the entirety of its duration - and downright NASTY for sustained periods along the way... but here I am: still standing, on the other side. Having crossed over I am ready to move on.

Man!.... what a battle it was.

I'm standing yes, but only just. This battle threatened to destroy me, to break me, to strip me of everything I am and all that I believed in. I sustained heavy injury, I'm still licking my bruises and wrapping broken ribs as I type... make no mistake about it - I am wounded and scarred... but I won... and that makes every bruise, every torn piece of flesh and every broken bone worth it.

Why is it that often the most painful experiences teach the most valuable lessons? Why is it that often monumental breakthroughs can only be achieved after significant bloodshed or personal sacrifice?

Just over 6 months ago I was writhing in agony, screaming out to noone in particular, wondering whether anyone would hear my cries for help... love and advice poured in from all sides, those close to me, those further away, support and solace came from the most unlikely sources - and I was grateful for every drop of it, used it to replenish my strength, to replace the substance of my spirit that seemed to be ebbing away with alarming speed.

I spoke at the time, of a wall, of being at the end of a road; of reaching a point where one must stop or turn back or just do something else for crying out loud! Or take more licks and lose one's sanity...

Some advised I run, some suggested alternative routes, some said 'give up', others said ' stand and fight', still others simply said 'stand'.

I'd fought as much as I could, there was no fight left in me, how much punch can you pack when every bone in your fist is shattered eh?

So I stood, and after more blows, I knelt... and after still more blows, I crouched... until eventually all I could do is be still. I could not push forward nor could I run away. I was where I was - for better or for worse. Beaten to a pulp, dying inside, hurting, bleeding, too weak to even cry anymore... I just 'was' - I could 'do' no more.

And then... about a month ago, something amazing happened. The wall I'd been battered against shattered. Without warning. It just did.

Things I couldn't speak about, injustices, unfairness, underhandedness - all came to light, exposed as the foul lying beast it was. And heads rolled, and things changed and what was meant to be the death of me - turned out to be the liberation of me... now I am free.


Goliath was felled in the end without me having to throw stones or sling mud the way his cohorts were doing. My Goliath couldn't hide behind that wall and throw bombs at me any longer - he was exposed for everyone to see... and others joined my fight, crying out at injustice... so that when I was on my last legs and ready to exhale one final time... my deliverance came... I am free.

What a feeling! I look forward to the day when my wings are fully mended and I can fly again, to the day when I can walk without limping and laugh without wincing.

Freedom - it's like taking a deep breath of fresh air after being in a stagnant cave for too long... or feeling sunlight on your face after being trapped in a dark hole...

my Goliath has fallen... I am free.

Dream Away

At any given point in our lives, we usually have one dream or another... something under-girding us, a light at the end of the proverbial tunnel calling us onward and upward; reminding us not to quit, to keep pushing because that dream.. man.. if it were realised, it would make us so incredibly happy, so satisfied...

Throughout our lives then, we make choices and decisions that we believe will further us along the road towards the realisation of our dream(s).

We accept the job at the big conglomerate instead of the corner book store even though it will work us 10 times as hard for the equivalent level of job satisfaction (or indeed LESS) and the commuting costs us more time, money and plain old hassle than the 5 min stroll from the front door... all because we convince ourselves that the conglomerate renumeration or personal dev't policy (or whatever) will help us achieve our personal goals, and boy are we willing to sacrifice/take it on the chin so we can fulfill our dream(s).

Fathers are constantly criticised for missing out on junior's childhood, by working all the hours God sends in order to bring home the proverbial bacon so that they can fund Junior's football kit/piano lessons/swimming lessons/tennis lessons/what-have-you... and let's not forget junior's college fund.

Working Mothers get the stick for - simply put- 'working'. "Woman, you're missing out on junior's childhood, you should stay home and watch teletubbies with him, cos he will be permanently disadvantaged when compared to the other kids whose mummy's can not only drop them off at 8:45am but can be there waiting at the school gates in the SUV at 3:30 pm....(never mind poor daddy slaving away to pay for the SUV!!)...

Why's mummy working?

1. To pay the bills (single parent/family where single incomes just won't cut it).
2. To make a difference (maybe mummy is a nurse/teacher/charity worker/doctor).
3. So her brain doesn't turn to mush. Mummy went to college/uni/post grad school and doesnt see the point of watching teletubbies and tweenies all day when she could be building a global empire (lol)
4. All of the above/none of the above.

Obviously I am generalising big time here - but the point is, people with/without kids make sacrifices for their dreams.I know a bloke who took a job as a reviled 'head hunter' for at least a year, so he could gain exposure to a particular industry (through interviewing job candidates). After being laughed at, kicked and spat on... he became a junior on a trading floor... and from all accounts is therefore having the last laugh!

In pursuit of dreams we are prepared to work our way up from the bottom, and put up with a lotta ish... so what if your manager keeps taking credit for the reports you slaved 16 hour days away on; so what if you keep getting passed over for promotion because you're too ethnic/too white/ too aggressive (ASSERTIVE)/too passive/too female/too male/too tall/too short yada yada - one day you will show them all!

• Your private business will suddenly take off and you'll get bought out for millions!
• Your report will catch the eye of a major network and they hire you as anchorman/woman/talk show host.
• Your screen play will pass Quentin Tarantino/Guy Ritchie/Steven Spielberg/M Night Shamalayan/whoever and become the next blockbuster...
• Your demo gets heard by Jay-z and you change your name from Robin Fenty to Rihanna...
• and the guy from sales will finally realise that YOU are the love of his life not the fake chick from marketing!

We all dream... we put up with the crap, cos we've heard the success stories, and we know one day it'll be OUR turn...

"oh, I feel it coming"... "I have a dream", we give ourselves that pep talk several times a week... maybe even several times a day:
"I'm better than this",
"This is a means to an end..."

but...what if...what if it isn't?

What if the 'means' becomes the 'end'?

What if dreams don't come true?

What if 5... 10 ... 15... 20... even 25 years down the line... you're still dreaming... still getting passed over for promotion, still single (if your dream was to find that partner), still hustling, waiting for that big break... And then the conglomerate makes you redundant, and your skills are so specialised that every position you apply for turns you down because you are 'over qualified'.

And what if the network says you can't even do your own reports anymore because you look too 'dated', oh sure you can still write them but the new kid fresh from uni is the one who goes on camera...

When should we decide to pack in the pipe dream? When should we draw a line in the sand and fold those paper dreams away?

What if the whole 'follow your dreams' spiel is an opiate designed to help us take the ish? Cos if we're taking the ish, we're not rocking the boat, and if we're not rocking the boat then mr boss man sure is getting a good return out of us. We'll tow the party line and not complain (too much) cos we dont wanna lose the job that is the means to the end that is the realisation of our dreams!

And why is it that following our dreams and paying bills always seem to be in conflict?

Why should some of us be forced to choose? I mean, how are you gonna choose between two dreams you want equally? Perhaps they are part of a single end result ie goal, but you are being pressured to choose one or the other, or to prioritise them in terms of 'try achieving one, then the other'. What if you just want them both TOGETHER? lol!

Back to using mummies & daddies (generalisations again). Why should daddy have to choose between being 'ideal dad & husband' and being branded as 'daddy who cares about work/money more than his family' or 'daddy who is never home/always away on business'?

And mumsie - she can be 'super mum, always there for everybody, always keeping it together, house clean, kids clean, nose clean, always putting others first' or she can be 'frowned upon working mum who is always tired cos she works 10 hours in office, then starts the domestic shift by picking up junior and lil mo from the *shock! horror!* childminder *gasp*; still has to make sure everyone gets dinner, and lil Mo gets help with the homework before she can even begin to think about time for 'daddy' let alone herself!" Phew!

Are you one of these people with a 1st class degree, temping or working for an incompetent buffon while waiting for SOMEONE to recognise your talent!If our dreams are so inextricably linked to our happiness - shouldn't we simply do what makes us happy instead of deferring those dreams for 'someday'?

Are you one of those people who still wakes up in the morning singing"Dream On Dream Away. I feel today could be THE day!"

Or have you reached the point where you have folded the paper dream away?

Troll Tales, Short Nonsensical Story

The Fairy & The Troll

There once was a troll who lived under the bridge in the dark land of Brock Lea. He was quite happy under his bridge, drinking rum with the other trolls and scaring the daylights out of anyone who got too close to disturbing his self-made equilibrium.

Up on the hill, in the sunny land of the Green Witch there lived a happy little fairy girl. I wouldn't say she was a good fairy, because she was given to fits of rage every now and then that caused her to turn people into stone the minute they annoyed her... but most days she was just happy to skip along, swinging a basket of flowers and listening to soca on her ipod.

One day, while passing through dark Brock Lea, the happy little fairy girl spotted the troll under the bridge. She thought that he was rather handsome for a troll and thought such rugged good looks were wasted in the dark. Perhaps he was really a handsome prince in disguise. Being a bit nosy and fond of making trouble, she snapped a branch from a nearby tree and decided to do a little stirring.
Wearing her loudest shoes she stomped back and forth across the bridge - taking sweet pleasure in the mixture of fear and satisfaction that came while running for the hills every time the troll came roaring out in anger!

Every day she continued to tease the troll. The torment continued for several months until one day she stamped across the bridge but the troll didn't chase her. Worried, the fairy girl took her trusty stick and climbed under the bridge to poke around. She poked the troll so hard that he sprang out, snatched the stick from her hand and whacked her over the head with it!

A raging battle ensued: a cacophony of jibes, pranks and quick witted come-backs peppered the afternoon - until exhausted silence enveloped the pair: each too tired to continue but too stubborn to admit defeat. The troll had met someone he could not scare away, who fought as hard as he did, and the fairy had met someone she could not turn into stone.
So began the most unusual romance in the land of the Green Witch. The troll learned to like flowers and skipping across bridges; the fairy learned to stop scowling and to be tolerant of others - even if they were annoying.

One day, after Thanksgiving, the King of land decided to make a new law that said that the sunny people could no longer chill out with the people of the dark place. The borders were being closed, because storybook creatures were under attack. This was terrible news for the troll and the fairy girl - it meant that they would not be allowed to see each other ever again! The pair were devastated.

The fairy girl couldn't imagine living without the stabilising and organised influence of the troll; and the troll couldn't imagine living without the uplifting if somewhat chaotic influence of the fairy!

So after thinking it through, the troll asked the Fairy if he could stay with her forever.

This was a big deal for him, because it would mean leaving his cave under the bridge to live in the world of men, he'd have to step out of his comfort zone and live somewhere where the world did not revolve around trolls but he felt this a small price to pay in order to keep his ray of sunshine.

It was also a big deal for the fairy girl: she'd have to give up her wings so that she couldn't run away at the first sign of trouble: and with that would go all her magical powers: she would be human. But when faced with the prospect of being able to fly but not having her companion anymore, she too decided humanity was a small price to pay - so she said 'yes'.

so the Troll became a man and the fairy lost her wings but they each gained the strength and beauty of the other and so they had no regrets at all.

And they moved to a Castle at the top of a hill and lived happily ever after.

Gooders Girl: Nike, Mike & Some Dogs

Gooders Girl: Nike, Mike & Some Dogs

End of The Road?

Many have asked why one wouldn't get up again after being knocked down, and whether it depends on who or what is knocking one down.

We've been taught to let nothing stand in our way - to get back up again and never ever let them keep you down! To fight for what you believe in, to fight for what we know to be right... to understand that nothing is freely given, everything you need, every dream you wish to see fulfilled - you must get off your own backside and make it happen!

But... what if your precepts are wrong? What if you aren't meant to win THIS particular battle - this thing that keeps knocking you down - no matter how far you get - it pushes you back and necessitates that you start again...

What if you are only meant to learn the lesson - and the same situation will repeat itself until you learn whatever it is you're meant to learn not until you have won.

Regarding my current situation, I have always thought that it was 'winnable' - I just had to keep fighting for what I believed in... and by being rock solid, the situation (and its associated players) would learn to bend around me and accommodate me - I would win. (After all Dr King made it didnt he?)

But (and I know it's terrible to start a sentence with a but) but lately, I am starting to think that maybe I am wrong - maybe I am NOT meant to be fighting and pushing forward- maybe I should recognise the wall for what it is: a wall - that I am not meant to break through - but that signals this is the end of this road indicating that I should choose another path.

Forbidden

Many years ago I stood at a crossroad and made a choice between two partners. One represented raw passion, ego trips and little else, the other stood for security, partnership, companionship, family and a much smaller measure of passion.

I said goodbye to the sex bomb, and it's a good thing that I don't have his number anymore.

The temptation to run to him when things at home are sour is often overwhelming. And that's weird because there is no evidence that life with him would have been sweeter...

Maybe it's the not knowing that makes it seem all the more real.
All the more tempting... more delicious...

Or maybe it's the simple and undeniable fact that he ALWAYS made me feel wanted.

I knew without a doubt that I was wanted; and that someone found me desirable.

What confidence that imparts; what strength it provides: the courage to drag oneself up and run that comb through one's hair one more time or to add that last touch of gloss before stepping through the door: because u never know who's watching, whose fantasy u might be feeding. To know that you are HOTT.

Even when ur beat down and broken inside u live inside his mind as a goddess:

beautiful,

untouchable

and timeless

forever.

I do not consider myself needy, or defined by the opinions of others - however, the self-affirmation attached to such simple sentences as :

"Honey, you look wonderful tonight" or

"Baby, I can't keep my hands off you" or

"Did you notice everyone's eyes were on you?"

can be so edifying... so richly empowering that the absence of such over an extended period of time can start to sow doubts and make one feel dowdy, frumpy or invisible.

I hurt so much.
Yet solace is nowhere to be found.

I made my choice so I will stay true to my promise

no matter how bitter the pill.

Lemme Upgrade You

[verse 1:]

I hear you be the block but I'm the lights that keep the streets on
Notice you the type that like to keep them on a leash though
I'm known to walk alone, but I'm alone for a reason
Sending me a drink ain't appeasing
Believe me, Come harder this wont be easy
Don't doubt yourself; trust me YOU need ME
This ain't a shoulder with a chip or an ego
But what you think they all mad at me for?

[bridge:]
You need a real woman in your life (That's a good look)
Taking care of home and still fly (That's a good look)
I'm a help you build up your account (Thats a good look)
Better yet a hood look, Ladies thats a good look
When you're in them big meetings for the mills (Thats a good look)
You take me just to compliment the deal (Thats a good look)
And anything you cop I'll split the bill (Thats a good look)
Better yet a hood look, Believe me, Ladies thats a good look

[chorus:]
Partner Let me upgrade you, Audemars Piguet you
Switch your neck ties to purple labels, Upgrade you...
...
Partner let me upgrade you, flip a new page
Introduce you to some new things & upgrade you


[verse 2:]
I can do for you what Martin did for the people
Ran by the men but the women keep the tempo
It's very seldom that you're blessed to find your equal
so I'll play my part and let you take the lead role
Believe me, I'll follow, this could be easy
I'll be your help, whenever you need me
I see you hustle, with MY hustle
I can keep you focused on your focus
I can feed you

[bridge:]
You need a real woman in your life (That's a good look)
Taking care of home and still fly (That's a good look)
I'm a help you build up your account (Thats a good look)
Better yet a hood look, Ladies thats a good look
When you're in them big meetings for the mills (Thats a good look)
You take me just to compliment the deal (Thats a good look)
Anything you cop I'll split the bill (Thats a good look)
Better yet a hood look, Believe me, Ladies thats a good look

[chorus:]
Partner Let me upgrade you, Audemars Piguet you
Switch your neck ties to purple labels, Upgrade you
...
Partner let me upgrade you, Flip a new page
Introduce you to some new things & Upgrade you

[Jay-Z:]

(Uh HOV, Uh, HOV, uh huh huh!)
I B the d-boy who infiltrated all the corporate dudes
They call shots, I call audibles
Jacob the jeweler, baubles, Lauraine Schwartz
sorta dudeIt's big balling baby when I'm courting you
I'm talking spy bags and fly pads and rooms at the Bloomberg
And rumors you on the verge of a new merger
Cause that rock on ya finger is like a tumor
You can't fit ya hand in ya new purse

It's humorous to me - they watching
We just yachting, island hopping off
Amalfi coast Mafioso, oh baby you ever seen satin
No, not the car
but everywhere we are
You sure to see stars.
This is high level not eye level,
My bezzle courtesy of Audemars
I order yours tomorrow
now look how much I saved you
Mama let me upgrade you

[hook:]

Just when you think we had it all
Big ends, condos, collecting cars
Picture your life elevating with me
Make you my 'project celebrity'
I keep your name hot in them streets
That little glimpse of light
that makes that diamond really shine
And you already is a star
but unless you're flawless
Then your dynasty ain't complete without a chief like me


[Outro:]
Audemars Piguet watch
Dimples in ya necktie
Hermes briefcase
Cartier top clips
Silk lined blazers
Diamond creamed facials
Vi Vi X cuff links
6 star pent suites

Copyright - Beyonce & Jay-Z



Now let's really break this one down, cos I KNOW a whole lotta my degree educated female friends embrace this concept.. but what these lyrics are saying is "you gotta get it right".

I ain't saying that relationships between college girls and plumbers can't and won't work out -what I AM saying is: Don't get into that relationship thinking you can or should "bring him up to your level" - cos if he don't want to be there - he will resent you and you will be spending all your time trying to refine him and shape and mould him into the man you wanted him to be - that he becomes more of a 'project' and much much less of a 'partner'.

Note - the lyrics say : you already is a star (let's ingore the grammar),... but unless you're flawless; your dynasty ain't complete without a chief like me.

So you gotta pick the partner who is already a star - as much as you are (whether that's in property development, building services, plumbing, law, catering, investment banking etc. etc. I dont care) - and you BOTH need to be complementing and upgrading eachother.

You gotta be the person that takes HIS empire to the next level - and in so doing - take your OWN empire to the next level.

Holler if you feel me.

GOLD

Some people never recognise it

Though it's right before their eyes and shines in all its glory... They never ever see

They choose something that looks just like it

And it may glitter for a time, But gold, it'll never be

I guess you never held on to quality

Or you woulda recognised by now

Something so special, so true

When it's standing right in front of you

Im gold babe

Catch me in the slipstream, passing by the fools who just dont know

Pure gold babe

You're looking at the real thing: If you knew my worth you wouldn't let go...

Gold lies in rivers, undiscovered

Hidden from the sight of those who dont know what to look for... They never gonna find it

Sometimes the value is uncovered;

Other times it's cast aside by those who are just unsure

I guess you never held on to quality or you woulda recognised by now

Something so special so true, when I'm standing right in front of you!

Im gold babe, catch me in the slipstream, passing by the fools who just dont know

Pure gold babe, You're looking at the real thingIf you knew my worth you wouldnt let go

Cos all the things you fail to see

Separated you from me

I decide who wins my time and who comes inside

Cos what is true and what is real

Finds some way of being revealed

Im gold babe, catch me in the slipstream, passing by the fools who just dont know
Pure gold babe, You're looking at the real thingIf you knew my worth you wouldnt let go

- copyright Beverly Knight

Why have I posted this? Because it helped me remember who I am, what I was worth and prompted me to get the hell out of a really bad relationship.

How many of us forget what we are worth, how many of us forget that we are diamonds and settle for being treated like cubic zirconium? Why do we do that - and try to hang on to the fools who don't respect us, don't treat us like creatures of value - but refer to us as their 'f**k buddies, flams, jump-offs, baby girl, side piece etc etc" instead of their equal counterpart, partner for life, and dare I say it : wife?

The Concept of Personal Space

My desk is on the 8th floor. The other day I was heading down, happy to be going home after another slog on the corporate treadmill.

I stepped into the elevator (as you do) and hit the 'G' key. As we descended, I started to exhale.. and de-stress a little... only a few more floors and this day will be over - I haven't thumped or cussed anybody, so maybe this day wouldnt end too badly after all.

But - it was not meant to be. The lift jarred to a halt at the 6th... and a gentleman.. actually no - a person of the male persuasion (POMP) clambered in.

Now tell me something, if there is one person in the lift, and you are getting in (meaning you will be person number 2) - where do you stand? Next to them? Opposite them? As far away from them as possible?

POMP decided to stand where? In front of me. That's right, he was so close to me that if I had tried to look down at my feet - my forehead would have butted his back... and yes, I know my forehead is big - but come on!

Talk about all up in my space? Now can anyone tell me why on earth he had to stand so close to me? Was my perfume so alluring? Or did my aura draw him in? Did I have some trade secret he wanted to suck out of me through osmosis? What was he thinking?

People, I was vexed... my temper was rising like mercury in a thermometer. I couldn't inhale without fibres from his suit wafting up my nostrils. I wanted to scream at him:

WHY ARE YOU ALL UP IN MY SPACE?

Now some of you may be asking yourself - "Why didn't YOU just step back?"

Come now, you must know how stubborn I am. Stepping back would have been a sign of weakness, letting him know that it was ok for him to take my spot... He was not black, I was, he was not female, I was. Any giving in on my part would have made feminists and equal rights activists everywhere turn in their graces/hand their heads in shame!

I was standing where I was standing because I wanted to, there was noone else in that spot when I got in - therefore it was my spot.. just like it is my seat on the train if I sit in it. If someone sat on your half of the seat - while you were still sitting in it - would you get up? No, I didn't think so - you would tell dem to 'scotch' round or ask dem if dey backside too big fuh dey side of the seat!

Anyway - why did he think that he could claim my spot in the lift, just because what? cos he was a man? cos he was taller? cos he may have been more senior? I don't think so bro, I don't care who you are - but I got in this lift first, so I am staying right where I am and YOU need to move.

So, I did NOT step back... I stayed put, my feet firmly planted on the ground and I folded my arms... if anything, I even inched a bit closer so that HE would feel as uncomfortable as I did ... and then I fumed.

We stayed like that all the way down.

Noone else got in - they must have sensed the radioactive tension emanating through the doors and decided to get the next one.

At the ground floor, my horns retracted and fire ceased to flare from my nostrils.. my pupils even lost their red hue... I smiled at the security guards and walked away... but as I walked I wondered about what had happened.

Somewhere along the way - we learn to respect other people's personal space. We don't normally stand close to people unless we know them, and if there a3 strangers in a large moving 'thing' (train, bus, elevator..) - they don't normally flock together... more likely, they'll stand at ends with their coffees and papers and busy themselves until they can get off/out. So why not this man?

Was he one of those people Don Cheadle spoke about in 'Crash'? People who are so starved for affection/social contact that they crash into others?

Or did his parents just not teach him any manners?

More worryingly, why did his behaviour elicit such a strong reaction in ME?

A Really Good Date Pt 2 (June 2004)

Ok, so as you know we went to the BBQ - at the house of the friend who used to be a Calvin Klein underwear and jeans model. And Franc wasn't sleazy at all... ignored me sometimes.. maybe he was nervous or trying to play it cool or maybe he just didn't wanna pay 2 much attention to me cos he was with his mates? I dunno...

So apart from shivering and munching, I spent a lot of time looking at fish in the pond while they nattered away in French. Every now and then they would catch themselves and one of them would say: "hey boys speak English". I absolutely LOVED listening to their accents ... anyway.. turns out Franc is a bit of a clown (which is fine) but he did wind me up a few times and he needs to swear less... (a lot less)... maybe he was swore so frequently because he was inebriated - (see prev email : they knocked back 3 or 4 bottles of red wine... I drank water)

After BBQ I was like - ok I am going home now and they were like - no no come out with us - and I was like - dude I'm wearing a white vest and jeans - I'm not dressed for evening functions... I was told I was beautiful and
dragged along anyway... I went to places in London I'd never been before! They thought it was funny that I didn't know where anything was: they were like - "do you actually LIVE in London?" I hang my head in shame :S

First stop was a bar called Bedouin, then another one called Vibe (???)... all I know is it was noisy and cold and I'd been wearing 6 inch heels for over 7 hours... (Although I was enjoying being pampered and wrapped in a guy's jacket, and plied with lots of free drinks!) And the conversation - when in English - was pretty stimulating.. felt like champagne bubbles on your tongue.. (what possessed me to say that?)

Anyway, it got to be after 9 so I was like "ok, can u give me a lift to the station (any station)" -
they were like "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO come on! you don't have to work 2moro - stay out and play with us!"
then they asked me if I knew any bashment /rnb places... so being the inherently wicked chick I am ... I directed them to BRIXTON hahhah

Needless to say they looked incredibly uncomfortable for a while... amazing how different black ppl can be from eachother, I enjoyed watching to see whether they could adapt... they gained some balls when they drank more alcohol, funny that.

I suppose I can understand their discomfort; these guys are like models; investment bankers and IT consultants - well educated, high earning men, most ppl in Brixton clubs I took them to - are ... well how should I put it... NOT

We all know the Brix crew are more likely to be low to moderate income earners with lots of gold jewellery and smoking weed and carrying weapons, the French guys were like - "Lord, please don't let me step on anyone's foot! I don't wanna get shot!"

So the Brixton crowd is all baggy jeans or large shirts.. (designer wear by evisu, moschino, rocawear, fubu etc), and these 3 Frenchies ... well they probably dress like well.. degree educated GQ type men... I mean Franc and Herve were wearing fitted shirts to show off their buff bodies :

HOWEVER!!!! as we all know... in BRIXTON: tight shirts = gay man
and some ppl in Brixton can be pretty homophobic and mean, so I was a bit worried that ppl might make nasty comments or be mean to them thinking they were gay (not that I wud care if they WERE gay - just I was worried about their safety)...so I just had to make sure I danced with all 3 of them you know so ppl wudnt be mean to them? and boy can they dance! woohoo!

Now THAT was a pleasant surprise - cos usually educated black men cant dance to save their lives... hahaha
so I had lots of fun... the thing that was new for me was they kept paying for everything (maybe my frenz need to get jobs man! ahem ahem ) they paid for all my drinks, and my club entry and so on... noone has ever done that for me before- I either pay for myself or for myself and my frenz - so nice not to be the banker this evening - I was just the same as everyone else -

Except I was treated like a princess.. by ALL THREE OF THEM

Franc's a big kid... we kept fighting in the back of the car.. like he hit me, I hit him back (for 10 mins) or I wud call him a name like 'whinge bag' or 'skinny punk'... and he would tickle me as punishment or until I apologised! man - I was out of breath from laughing so much! He was winning as well, til I pinched him and he yelped like a girl (very satisfying that was ha-ha)

After about a solid half hour of me hollering and whelping in the back - the others separated us - they said: "u kids don't know how to play nice!" so Herve sat in the back with me instead and Franc went to the front.

That was probably for the best because DANG! it was HARD to keep my hands off him! I'm like - "hmmm Lord.. it is men like this that cause Christian women to sin!" Shivers of electricity up my spine - the way he held my hand, or my waist (or my arms when trying to twist them roughing me up in quite a tender way lol) - too much man-attention for my starved-for-affection self! Talk about sensual overload... and Andrea - you have GOT to see his lips... purpose by design - u KNOW what I am talking about. (Note - at this point I had been single and celibate for almost 2 years).

Hey - u know that song by Mario - "You should let me love you"....? well, girls, we danced to that - I felt like I was gonna swoon, he held me so tight , we were barely moving at all... and he's like got NO fat on his body (fitness geek) and I was like - "aagh" cursing my love handles!!.. but he just held me and rested his chin on the top of my head (well he's almost 6 foot!) and it was so nice! (I've always wanted a pointy chin man to put his chin on my head!) I could go on and on about that boy's body... but for the sake of dry clothing I wont - if you know what I'm saying! *wink*

I felt so secure and wanted and safe.. and its been ages since I've felt that way.. ok I lie.. I have NEVER felt that way... I felt like someone's sweetie *swoon*... like someone was actually and genuinely happy to be right where he was right then... sharing that moment with ME! no strings attached or conditions and prerequisites.. just easy like Sunday morning.

AND unlike last week's date with a certain door man... not only did I get a lift to my door but NOONE complained AND I got 3 sets of goodnight besos.

Beat that Marilyn!

It was after 5 am when I crept into my bed... feet balled up like fists in spasms of pain! Of course I couldn't walk the next day... and had to sleep with my feet slathered in baby oil and wrapped in hot towels.. but hey - small price to pay for the most amazing date ever!

ps - 2 days left on the 7 day tip.. care to place bets?

Every day I am one blessed step closer to who I will be, one grateful step further from who I used to be, and still I revel in every minute that I am who I am.

A Really Good Date (June 2004)

Man I don't know where to begin
1. He was so HOT...
2. He was so FINE...
3. He was so HOT!

lol ok on a serious note - we've been talking a couple times a day since I dunno wed or thurs or whenever it was I told you I'd met him.

We really seemed to get on and I was looking forward to meeting him - especially because unlike Donovan - this dude was calling/messaging everyday!

So after being completely knackered from sat night and my efforts to get home on time so I could row... I was pretty nervous about meeting Franck... it just didn't seem real that you could meet someone online and him be normal... or as good looking as his photos. I figured he must be toothless, cos he never smiled in his pics... or maybe those weren't his pics at all... maybe I was about to be murdered by a psychopathic serial killer! so I had just about talked myself out of going, when he range and said he was gonna be about 20 mins late... I was like... wow! No-one's ever called to let me know before... they just keep me waiting... so I figured I at least owed it to him to show up, even if it was to say - see ya!

I threw on (and I mean literally threw on) the first thing I could find: a white vest and some jeans (so much for planning a perfect entrance - see how convinced I was that he was gonna be rubbish? I didn't even think it was gonna be worth the effort!) Boy was I in for a surprise... and oh how I would curse the moment I decided to wear 5 inch wedges!

So... I arrived 45 mins late, not intentionally of course - but as I said - I had talked myself into believing he was gonna be a right dog. So literally dragging my heels I sauntered up to the park in the roundabout (canary wharf) and lo and behold he was still there... sitting patiently... looking all endearing all alone on the bench.

Introduced myself and apologised for being late. He said: ‘did I mention it?' and I said no, and he said: ‘well then.' and shrugged it off. I was flabbergasted (my ex would have started yelling at how I was wasting his time and he could have been doing important things instead of waiting around in a park!)

we chatted for a while, I was starving, he invited me to his best friend's BBQ - I was a bit reluctant because I am shy and don't like going places when I don't know anyone - but then I took a look at his body and thought - well.. I can go home and watch TV... or spend the afternoon looking at THAT! No contest really!

So off we went...

He annoyed me a bit on the bus (there was a baby crying and he kept whinging about it, my friend says I am too picky - he was probably just nervous having to sit next to me... or slightly immature ROFL). Otherwise he was good company and made me laugh quite a bit - which was nice. Very good sense of humour. Reminds me so much of myself at times! After a rather interesting bus journey (hahaha) and after him guessing several times which bus stop it was (apparently the last time he visited his friend from canary wharf angle he got off 2 stops early and spent ages walking!) Luckily for me (and for his hide) he got it right this time. His best friend lives in an amazing place (I really like living spaces). Herve (the best friend) lives in a gated mews: you go through the gates across an industrial looking courtyard (t'was an old factory), then through reception (complete with concierge) onto another courtyard, the centrepiece of which is an amazing pond, with white lilies on dark, blue-green water and black fish swimming up and down its length and breadth. The thing looked the width of TWO swimming pools and just as long... even had its own pontoon with decking and pathway lights. Herve was busy on the BBQ. His flat is pretty cool too... smallish but well laid out with very high ceilings! Franck introduced me as ‘bajanlily’ - saving both of us from the embarrassment of having to explain how we really met (eek)! There was one other friend there: Laurent. So there was little me with three native French speakers... smiling and nodding cos half the time I didn't understand. I used to be fairly fluent in French but that was almost 13 years ago - rusty as an old tin can now I am! it was alright when they slowed down... after about an hour of this (with me munching quietly in the background while they nattered away, shivering slightly in the cold...) they'd consumed enough red wine to marinate their livers - and realised that they should probably speak English... which started a debate on whether they should speak English or I should learn to speak French... at which point Franck opted to speak Portuguese... and seeing as how my Spanish is better than his - that was just fine with me HAH! I felt pretty smug when they all gave in and reverted to English. Turns out Herve is a former Calvin Klein model (that would explain SO much!!) *drool...* Franck seems to be a bit of a clown - but I like that - cos I know I was like that growing up... only thing is that might annoy me in 7 days eh? :P hahaha Almost collapsed with desire when he touched me - who said he could touch me? He decided to tickle me because I wouldn't tell him what derogatory comment I'd made to Herve (about Franck). I like that boyish side of him. Or at least I do for now. Got a nice hug too - and he gave me his jacket when I said I was cold... what? Do fellas like that still exist? I was shocked! Anyway - around half 7, I was like ok - time to go now (date number 2 and all that), and Franck was like: I thought you were coming with us to (can’t remember the name of the bar) in Farringdon? I was like... “Er nah... I've gotta go home...” he just smiled. 'And I am not dressed for going out' I protested.

He just smiled: "u look beautiful"

A few minutes later, there was me standing outside the bar with three French guys I'd only just met -7 hours ago - having the time of my life!