Matchmaker Matchmaker make me a match

I'll be the first to admit that I'm pretty crap at this 'guy stuff' and need all the help I can get. One of my friends, Emily has been trying to set me up since we were at University. She fancies herself a bit of a matchmaker and calls me up at least once a month, to tell me that she's found me yet another 'perfect match'. Usually nice guys, but just not my 'type' (one time even the guy was gay).


And whenever I make a new guy friend, Emily is always the first to urge me to move the friendship to another level "After all... you enjoy his company so you are halfway there." She obviously hasn't caught on to the fact that guys I fancy NEVER make it to the 'buddy category'.


For a close friend, I don't understand how Emily can get it so wrong. At the moment she's convinced that what I really need is a serious, intelligent older man (YAWN)


Earlier in the month, I invited my friend B to her house party and true to form she decided that we were perfect for each other. Never mind I barely spoke to him for most of that party - we don't have a lot to say to each other. I laughed it off at the time, but when she kept bringing it up in every conversation it stopped being funny. Apparently, I'm too picky. Don’t get me wrong. he is a nice guy, good looking too. But there is just no chemistry and our interests do not intersect at all. Yesterday we went to the British Museum together. As soon as we entered the main exhibition, he wandered off on his own. I was a bit confused. After all, if someone invites you out to a museum or art gallery surely it is to share the experience. I tried to engage him in conversation about the artefacts, but he was clearly not interested. I might as well have gone on my own. Just as I was working out an exit strategy, Yati showed up with 'S'. Things got much better from then. We managed to shake 'B' off and had a great afternoon together.


I was very impressed with S


Yati has been wanting to introduce S and me for ages. She said he was my type, we'd get along, I'd really like him etc. I've been putting it off because after Emily's matchmaking efforts, I am reluctant to meet anyone recommended by friends. I should have trusted the fact that Yati lived with me for 3 years and knows me better than anyone else. She's nailed this one! From the fact that he’s a Christian, to the height, build, personality, age, interests, looks, a touch of political incorrectness… At least one friend listens to me!! In a way S reminds me of ‘A’ (another guy that I had a MA-HOO-SSIVE crush on a couple of years ago). I was so into him that I literally threw myself at him, and was firmly rebuffed! Won't be making that mistake again. Hmm, how am I going to do this!

Rugby Sevens

On Saturday, courtesy of my new friend Ruby, I went to watch the Emirates Rugby Sevens at Twickenham Stadium She got free hospitality box tickets through the company she works for.

Rugby Sevens is an International event and is made up of teams of seven, playing short 14 minute matches. The last time I watched a live rugby game was in Uganda – over 10 years ago, so was really excited. I just love Rugby players. Especially No 12 England team Chris Cracknell who has a fantastic body! On the Rugby Football Union website, he is listed as ‘Unattached’. I know, it probably means that he is not tied to any Rugby team, but one can hope…

Ruby and I met up at Richmond station. As the advertised free bus shuttle service was not running, we walked to the Stadium. On the way, she smoked a joint. I didn’t realise it then, but must have inhaled quite a bit (keep this in mind, will come back to this later)

The atmosphere in the stadium was electric. There was a large Kenyan turn out to support Kenya team. The Southern stand was full of them – colourful and loud. Ruby and I went over to soak in the atmosphere. The Kenya team did really well winning 2 out of 3 games. They only lost (with dignity) to Fiji which is a superior rugby team anyway
.
Then there was the England team. Each time they came on the cheer leaders would stand in parade waving England flags. There’d be a flash of smoke and pyrotechnics and the commentator would shout “Here's what you've all been waiting for....WELCOME YOUR TEAM” The crowd went wild. I screamed myself hoarse – for Kenya, England, and South Africa.

Throughout the day, I had a splitting headache – I’ve never experienced such intense pain. I realised I must be suffering from the side effects of that smoke I inhaled in the morning. Second-hand skunk smoke is bad for you. Next time Ruby lights up –I will distance myself, put a wet cloth over my mouth and nose! I never want to go through that again. Terrible

Being Posh

Yesterday, my friend Julius sent me a text message asking whether I was free for ‘proggy’, a private art exhibition at a gallery in Mayfair.

The artist Pip Mcgarry  is 'one of the Europe’s leading wild life artists with an international reputation for his oil paintings of big cats and African game'. He recently sold a painting at Christies for a record £29,300 – so serious art there!! He was auctioning off a couple of pieces; the proceeds going to the charity Five Talents (UK) who organised the event.

I must admit I was a bit apprehensive. My preconception of Art Exhibitions is that they are ‘snobby’ affairs where a bunch of rich people stand around, drinking free wine and saying ‘Yah, Astounding! Yah, Spiffing”. Not really my scene. Plus I was going straight from work and concerned that I may not be dressed for the occasion in my sweater and cowboy boots. What if the women were wearing evening gowns? I didn’t want to embarrass Julius. He assured me that I was okay.

“I’ve been to these functions before. You’ll fit in just fine’

When we got there, the first person I saw was the photographer. A couple of years ago I went on a blind date with him, and we really hit it off. He sent me an email afterwards declaring his love yada yada yada. Not long after, we went on a disastrous second date (for some reason didn’t stay in touch...) Yesterday, he couldn’t even remember my name (so much for love eh) “Which one were you? The Gemini?”No doubt the story of ‘The Gemini’ has been filed away in his repertoire of dating disasters. Well in mine he is under ‘Infantile photographer facing mid life crisis’ HAH!

Julius was schmoozing, so I grabbed a glass of wine and walked around the gallery. The art is good. I really liked this one of the elephants at a watering hole called 'Savute Evening' . It almost looks like a photograph and not an oil painting.

I met another woman who'd tagged along and discovered that we have a lot in common. She works with my organisation and yeah,

She was also there for the food

And the food- cucumber sandwiches yeurggh!

An Awkward Moment

As it was M’s birthday, a bunch of us went to the old White Lion pub, a favourite haunt with St B’s youth. By the time I got there M, was drunk. I’ve never seen him drunk. It was hilarious.

Stu and I were exchanging our usual playful banter.

Slight explanation: - I love Stu – and I’m pretty sure he loves me- as a brother. Ok not so sure about the ‘brother’ bit. Lately he’s always grabbing my ass. (It’s a nice ass, if I should say so

 myself ;-P) The last incident I moved his hands to my waist saying; -
“NOT there, HERE”
His explanation was “Sorry…my hands slipped!”
Yeah right!! Hands slipped! Original!

Okay, so back to the pub. Across the table, I noticed Rob studying us. He nudged Hannah and whispered something to her.
Then they both turned to us deliberately
“Guys we’ve decided that the two of you should get married”

This is what is called An Awkward Moment

There was a hush at the table. I was thinking 'what the f*@K! M is sitting right next to Rob. You idiot, you are blowing my CHANCES man! (All this in the space of a second) I frantically searched for a response – no help from Stu there.

When Bianca piped up with, “Why do you say that Rob? Is it because they are Black?”, I grabbed on to it like a drowning man- ,

“Hey, that’s our line! You just stole my line! I’m supposed to say that”

Every one laughed and the moment was broken.
Hmm! I hope it doesn’t come up again.

Neighbours, a car and a lesson in Grace

I don't know whether I have mentioned before that I have pretty amazing neighbours - Ros and Jon. I learnt that they moved onto my road in February this year when a mutual friend sent an email to introduce us to each other.

Ros and Jon are really quite brilliant. They blow every misconception that some of us Blacks have of ‘White People.’ Where do we get this idea that all ‘White People’ are cold with ‘Etiima’ (in my language this loosely translates to ‘heartless’); sticklers for rules at the cost of relationshi- selfish ‘…putting their elderly parents in Retirement homes!’

Perhaps I shouldn’t generalise. Not ALL Blacks feel this way about 'White People' – maybe it’s only the ones I talk to. 'White People' stories (almost always the nasty experiences) end in ‘trademark’ punch line…

“White People! Hah!!” (Note, not the short sharp ‘Hah!’, but the long drawn out ‘Haaaaaaah”)
The listeners (black) usually respond with a chorus of understanding, “Mmhmms!!!” knowing looks and sniggers all around.

The same people, when I tell them about an act of kindness that a friend has done for me, will ask first,
“What a nice person. White or black?”
“Black” will get little reaction. Say “White” – and it's like they've been stung by a bee, a sharp intake of breath and if they are Nigerian you might even get “Ah Ah!!! – slap the leg – “You’re joking me!!!”

When Ros and Jon found out that it takes me about an hour and a half to get to church on Sunday mornings by bus, they offered me the use of their second car for the weekends. They wouldn’t even let me pay for the extra cost of insurance insisting that it was a gift - their way of blessing me. But not wanting to abuse this privilege, every Sunday before I return it, I wash, wax and refuel the car.

When I got home last Friday, I found that they’d dropped the car off as usual and left a message with my sister to tell me that the petrol tank was full and there's no need for me to put in anymore. 

This car thing has got me thinking about my relationship with God and my response to grace. Ros and Jon, like God, have given me a free gift, and don’t expect anything in return for it. And yet against their express wishes and assurances I continue trying to earn the privilege - fearing that it might get withdrawn if I don’t show enough appreciation. 

Isn’t it frustrating when you give someone a gift, that where a simple 'thank you' would have sufficed, that person overdoes the ‘appreciation thing’! This attitude questions the character of the Giver, of the friendship and just kills the whole pleasure of giving!

But let me remove the plank from my own eye before I start pointing out the splinter in others. I know I still haven’t learnt how to receive grace and as a result, I am not growing in my relationship with God. How can I when I insist on behaving like a servant and not a friend?

I reckon the reason why people reject the gospel is because of society’s inbuilt scepticism that makes us meet kindness with suspicion

‘There's nothing-like-a-free-lunch’ 

“It can’t possibly be free"
"What’s the catch?"

Sound familiar?

Perhaps we all need neighbours like Ros and Jo to teach us what grace means! 

mortified

My younger sister has moved in with me. The other day she came out the flat and my neigjbour Clive asked her whether I was her Mom!!!

Her MOM!!!

I was mortified, horrified. She's 25!!!

She has assured me that the guy was just trying to make conversation, but there are some things that, even said in 'jest',  are just NOT funny or welcome conversational topics. 

I've always prided myself on looking younger than my age. Clearly, this is no longer the case if someone thinks that I am old enough to have a 25 year old daughter!

Do I look that old?

The only thing that's different is that I'm fat. Maybe that's what makes me look old. Maybe that's why the youth don't talk to me at church because they think I am like 40+ years old - WAYYYYY older than they are.

It's really depressing. 

I can't really afford it but I've joined the gym, and will probably go on an extreme diet so that I can look young again

It's throwaway comments like this that make people develop eating disorders

When I next have my neighbours round to dinner, Clive will NOT  be one of them!!!

 

Honest Blog award

So apparently Mjay has tagged me with this award. 

According to her blog

 “This award is bestowed upon a fellow blogger whose blog’s content or design is, in the giver’s opinion, brilliant.”

I'm honored... I really am! 

Hey wasn't FaceBook doing something like this a while back with the 25 things?

And now I get to bare my soul in all honesty. I don't know... people like asking me for my honest opinion. My experience shows that honesty is usually well received when tempered with a heavy doze of sensitivity and tact. I was not blessed with these qualities when God was handing out personalities,  so I tend to upset a lot of people. They never ask me twice....

So here goes - BRACE YOURSELVES!!

1. I think I’m an interesting and exciting person– a sentiment, I am appalled to say, that is not shared by the rest of the world.
   
2. The question that I’ve been obsessed with ever since I was little is “Does God exist?” Sometimes it feels like I am living in the story of ‘The Emperor’s New Clothes’ – pretending with the rest of the religious crowd that God exists when really he may not. I guess you could call me a Christian biased agnostic.
   
3. My deepest wish is to die young. Not a horrific death – more like a slipping quietly away in a ‘she-felt-no-pain’ kind of way (how would they know?)
   
4. And then after I’ve died if I discover that God does exist (gulp), and I am to be excluded from heaven due to my miniscule and sometimes lack of ‘faith’ while I was alive (dem are de rules), that he would just snuff me out of existence rather than send me to hell
   
5. Every year I develop a crush on an ‘unavailable’ man- which renders me emotionally unavailable to men who are available. Weird eh?
   
6. I get very excited about people I like (male or female) – to the point of stalking. I want to hangout and correspond with them all the time. It’s very embarrassing for them and for me
   
7. I used to think I only liked reading sci-fi or fantasy genre, but have now discovered that I enjoy reading anything witty, funny or humorous – whatever genre, whatever medium (books, magazines, blogs)- that’s good for me.
   
8. I consider myself a social misfit and gravitate towards other social misfits - usually those who are more at odds with society than I am – so that I seem normal by comparison.
   
9. I’m not comfortable around kids, although on very rare occasions, I will warm to a kid – but this is VERY rare.
   
10. People who know me say I’m too honest. What they don’t know is that I keep a lid on a lot of stuff– so not all that honest (why exactly did Mjay tag me?)
    

If you unfortunately happen to be tagged, here are the instructions: - 

1) You must brag about the award - Check!

2) You must include the name of the blogger who bestowed the award on you and link back to the blogger: Mjay

3) You must choose a minimum of seven (7) blogs that you find brilliant in content or design.

4) Show their names and links and leave a comment informing them that they were prized with Honest Weblog.

There are links to all the brilliant blogs, on the right hand side. Mjay is the only one who would play along and she tagged me. So in keeping with my commitment to remain 'different', I bestow this award on all 'Blogs that I read', but they will remain UNTAGGED!

5) List at least ten (10) honest things about yourself. Then pass it on! - Check!!

Easter - Part 2

On the Monday, I met up with an old neighbour, from 20 + years ago, for a coffee. He's taller (6' 5"), but the eyes are still the same.
We filled each other in on what had been happening with other members of the family - a lot can happen in 20 years and had an altogether pleasant afternoon. I dragged him to the National Gallery - which I have never been to -despite having lived in London for over 10 years and entrance into Gallery is free (no excuse really). My friend helpfully pointed out which paintings were by famous painters. I recognised a couple of them.
Then there was the highlight of my evening!

I've never been to the opera. It has a reputation of being boring, pretentious, appreciated only by classical musicians. I've heard snatches of opera on TV, and once in church, and not been too terribly impressed by the warbling and vibratto. I don't understand half of what they are singing, even if it is sung in a language I understand. But the reason I've never been to the opera boils down to… cost. Opera tickets normally cost about £160+ each for decent seats, and I'm not that keen on making an expensive mistake, if youknarrmean!
It came as a bit of a surprise when my friend Beth (from the previous day) invited me to go along with her to the Royal Opera House to see the Italian opera by Giuseppe Verdi called 'Il Trovatore' (The Troubadour). She had somehow secured cheap seat tickets to the opera of £6 each.

"Wanna come?"
"At £6, hell yeah!"

Never mind that we'd be lucky to even see the stage.
Now for the benefit of the uninformed, I defer to Terry Pratchett's superior definition of opera in his book, Maskerade

… Well basically there are two sorts of opera, ' said Nanny, who also had the true witches ability to be confidently expert on the basis of no experience whatsoever. " There's your heavy opera, where basically people sing foreign and it goes like, "Oh oh oh, I am dyin', oh, I am dyin', oh, oh, oh, that's what I'm doin" ', and then there's your light opera, where they sing in foreign and it basically goes " Beer! Beer! Beer! I like to drink lots of beer!", although sometimes they drink champagne instead. That's basically all of opera, reely.'
'What? Either dyin' or drinkin' beer?'
'Basically, yes,' said Nanny, contriving to suggest that this was the whole gamut of human experience,
"And that's opera?'
'We-ll… there might be some other stuff. But mostly it's stout or stabbin'.'

'Il Trovatore' is in the heavy category. The singing was powerful, but I couldn't help but notice that the actors (sorry… singers) were a bit wooden. Their voices were poweful and full of passion, but they just stood there looking at the person who was singing! In fact my favourite scene, is when the lead tenor sings a song to fire up his motley rebels to defend his town from the evil Count.

Yeah, Now that's what I'm talking about

The other songs were a bit mushy. Sung in Italian, but there were English surtitles (like subtitles only these appear on a screen above the stage) for the benefit of those who can't be bothered to learn another language. Saying that, the only line I understood was... "Il suo fratello" (it was your brother!) in the 'twist' at the end which we'd seen coming for at least a couple of hours! Roll eyes!

Okay so maybe Il Trovatore was not the best choice for a first time opera, but now, I'm interested in opera. Especially after I told M about it the next evening, and he became animated! M studied Music at the Royal College of Music, so he's in the lot who would appreciate opera. He told me that perhaps I should watch a comedy like 'The Marriage of Figaro' (so that would be a light opera? ... See... I'm practically an expert now), and that we should go together to see it.

Now that's what I'm talking about!

What I did over Easter- part 1

A couple of weeks ago, I suggested to my friend Freddie that on Easter Sunday it would be great to drive out to the countryside (in his nice new car) and go hiking. Shortly after we’d made the plans, I realised that I don’t have any hiking gear. I couldn’t call and cancel on Freddie, because well... it was MY idea in the first place; he’d been so enthusiastic about it and had already started planning the trip. He also invited his mom, Inga, who is visiting from Sweden to join us – and she was excited. Then I just had to go mention it to my friend Beth who asked if she could tag along…

Well… just couldn’t disappoint all those people!

So when on the News the weather girl announced with a smile that it would be a cold wet windy Easter weekend, I could have kissed my TV screen in delight. Freddie sent a text amending the plans to pub lunch, safari drive in Longleat and maybe Bath- no hiking! I was ecstatic and I’m pretty sure at some point shouted Halleluiah!

Sunday dawned, and off we drove towards Somerset. We stopped off and had a look around Old Sarum, where you can find the ruins of a palace built by William the Conqueror in 1069. This is an aerial view of Old Sarum

We’d planned to stop at Stonehenge, but because of traffic we were running late for our booked pub lunch. Freddie even had to phone them using his car phone to push reservation back by an hour. He dialled the number on the dashboard and then the speakers of the car started ringing - like a wireless phone- I was suitably impressed!

Now I like hanging out with Freddie but here’s the thing. He earns bucket loads of money – compared to me at least, and he assumes that every one has the same amount of disposable income. He’d booked lunch in a nice but expensive pub, the Bath Arms in Longleat at £25 per head! That’s 2 weeks of my grocery allowance!!! I’d withdrawn £20 that morning with the intention of using £10, so suddenly lunch didn’t seem like a good prospect any more. The cheaper option was £19.50 and Beth who is just as poor as me, was studiously avoiding my gaze. Freddie is my friend, but not THAT good a friend, so couldn’t borrow money off him. To cut a long story short, I took the cheaper option. Groceries? What groceries?! The portion sizes were large, and I'm sure must have tasted good, but lunch left a somewhat bitter taste in my mouth, washed down by tap water (the only free thing on the menu)

We took stroll around the Longleat grounds. This place was owned by an eccentric guy called Lord Bath, who in the 1970’s brought over exotic animals which included 50 lions (poor things). It also has giraffe’s, monkeys, flamingos etc. This was one of the first places outside Africa where you can go on a safari drive at a price of £30.80 per adult. I deflected Freddie’s enthusiastic cries of ‘Let’s go on safari!’, and this time I was successful. We ended up doing the free stuff – like touring the gardens around the house, and looking at Lord Bath’s collection of Nazi memorabilia… yeah I know… weird. The guy was a bloody Nazi sympathiser!

We drove back to London, exhausted but happy! (okay… me silently berating myself because of my pride. I should have spoken up about how expensive it was). Our only regret is that we didn’t have time to go to Bath. Freddie suggested a weekend trip later on this year, including an overnight stay. A good idea, but Beth and I privately agreed that while Freddie and his mom, stay in some swanky boutique hotel, we’ll look for a good cheap youth hostel and bring packed lunch along too.

And then it was Good Friday

I took the week off before Easter just to RELAX! I was PMS’d, so was pretty much irritable at everything and everybody. Best to be left alone...

I went down to the library and the (probably new) librarian mentioned as I was checking out my books that they were due back in 3 weeks time. I bit back the sarcastic remark that sprung up “You mean it’s changed from what it was in the last 10 years?” How was the man to know that this was only half of what I usually borrow, and that I was on leave, so was going to use the time to read! Wise-acre!!
By Thursday my mood had somewhat improved as I discovered that if I played karaoke instrumental videos on Youtube, I could make a video of myself singing using the 'I-Movie' application on my MacBook AT THE SAME TIME!!!
This was AMAZING! 1 hour, 2 hours before I knew it, it was midnight. Ballads suit me best (sadly songs by Pussy cat dolls don’t... although I made a video of me lip-syncing and dancing to 'Sway' ;-P)

On Friday, my fabulous neighbours, gave me a lift to St B's for the Good Friday Service. It was such a beautiful service – I blubbed most of the time. In my opinion this is the best service we have at St B’s because it gives room to express the artistic creativity within the Church. The seats were arranged in a circle. We started the service with 30-minute time of reflection watching a themed photographic slideshow put together by one of the Church members- classical music playing in the background. Someone had also written a poem that was handed out. The choir then sung a few songs beautifully in 4 part harmonies. This was followed by readings and actors doing dramatic monologues, Peter first, and then Pontius Pilate. Solos were sung! M sung a Gregorian chant in his lovely bass!!! The drummers did a presentation using tom tom drums placed all over the church. And while we were receiving communion, the tech team played this video!



SOOO beautiful.

During the service, as I reflected on the true nature of love – Jesus example of self sacrifice -laying down one’s life for the sake of others, the nature of my desire for M was laid bare. I realised that I had been motivated by selfishness. Focusing on myself and what I wanted, and how he would fill my needs and being frustrated because I was not getting my way. I made the decision to LET GO. Yes, I am occasionally dogged by thoughts of him, but not with the same intensity as before.
This put me in the right frame of mind for the rest of the weekend.....

Non - Practicing

'...I'm non-practising when it comes to a lot of things actually. I'm a non-practising exerciser, a non-practising inventor, a non-practising genius. When I was younger, I was a non-practising child prodigy. The brilliance of the non-practising adjective impressed me from the moment I first came across it. It allowed me to declare oneself something and then never have to actually back it up, since that would be against one's beliefs. I am this, but I choose not to demonstrate it, so you'll just have to take my word for it. Genius. Like me. Non-practising...'

Quote taken from short story 'Stray' by Kristin Gore in 'Ladies Night' (HarperCollins Publishers 2005)

It's a small world after all...

The other day as I was browsing http://www.meetup.com, I signed up for a local Book Club that meets one Sunday every month. I scrolled through the list of current members and my eyes almost popped out of my head when I saw a name that I recognised!

First reaction was "No... it can't be!" 

Especially as I haven't seen said person in 20 years, and the most vivid memory I have of him is that he was always crying being the object of much bullying from his and my older brothers. Also his family was like 'Different Strokes' in reverse. A Kikuyu dad, a Canadian mom with her 2 teenage sons from a previous relationship and an adopted Kikuyu daughter. 

On the spur of the moment, I send him an email asking if indeed it is he. Did he ever live in Nairobi on this road, and does he have an older brother and younger sister?

He comes back with a suspicious, 'Yes, it's me. Who is this?'

Not an encouraging start given that we were neighbours. I reply with an email detailing a few remembered facts from our childhood and end with a 'Well can't expect you to remember. After all it was 20 years ago. What a small world. Have a nice life'... 

Ok didn't really say it on those exact words, but that was the tone of my email. U-narr-mean? I didn't want him to think I was a stalker or anything

The next day as I was Skyping with my sister, I started with 

"You'll never guess who I came across the other day in London, neighbours in Nairobi..."

"Who?"

I tell her the family name. Blank. 

"I don't remember them. Were those the Tanzanians?"

I give her pretty much the same details as I gave him. (gosh am I the only one who remembers things?) After constant interruptions of "But weren't those the Tanzanians" and naming all the other families who lived nearby, she finally says "Ask him about his mom's sesame seed cookies, the ones that used to melt in your mouth"

 

Well I don't remember those.... perhaps the Tanzanian's made those?

So we've been emailing each other back and forth. Stuff like when we came to England, what we are doing here, what happened after we left Nairobi etc. In today's email he's asked what I'm doing for Easter and if I'm free would I like to meet up to 'exchange tales of long lost times...'

Yes, you saw that right, there was the 'dot dot dot' at the end of the sentence. Now why would he put a '...' there? Why can't it just be a normal full stop or question mark? 

What if it all goes horribly wrong. I mean the guy couldn't even remember me. What if there isn't anything to talk about beyond the emails we've been sending each other? Plus I'm not sure I want to meet any more new people, especially guys (even though technically he isn't new people). I never have anything to say to them anyway

I guess what I'm trying to say is  'What if he doesn't like me?' 

If only he'd just put a plain full stop or question mark, I would not be in such a panic! 

Darn it!

 

Cute bride

Nope, I'm not married yet

Took this photo on the Brides of March day (14 March 2009) as in 'Ides of March'... you get it? 

A group of about 20 of us (male and female) dressed up as brides and went walking around Central London. It was a lot of fun!!

Secrets...

Recently, M has been blowing ‘warm’ as opposed to the distressing ‘cold shoulder’ treatment of the other day. On Sunday he asked if the dinner invite I’d extended to his family was on condition that his whole family would be there (His mom and dad couldn’t make the proposed date)

“N…n…no, of course not...” I stammered, studiously avoiding eye contact with friend Fiona, hoping that M had not noticed the sharp elbow jab she’d just delivered to my side. “You’re more than welcome to come. In fact I’d love for you to come”

Then, I thought… Hmm I can’t have M all alone in my flat, because he'd think it's a romantic gesture... scare off the poor dude...can't have that...

So later on I invited my tech team chief and his wife to join us
“Is it just the two of us?”

“No, I’ve invited M as well”

“Hmm, there’s been a lot of talk about ‘M’ from you”

Silence

“Oh ho…!”

“There’s nothing to tell really! M regards me as his sister. I don’t regard him in quite the same way. And that’s all there is to it”

“So, you’ll be using us as chaperones”

“No, I won’t! I just want to have you guys over for dinner. That’s all!”

Kim. You liar

Pay slip came today...

... I worked out how much I'd have left over after I'd paid the bills.
Not a lot.
As I gnawed my pen anxiously, the words I spoke at last nights' Baptism service returned to mock me,
Do you believe and trust in God the Father, source of all being and life, the one for whom we exist?
I believe and trust in him
I could choose to walk around with a long face, in hopeless despair -a victim - even though I am responsible for this, relying on the false security of credit cards... a foolish thing to do in today's recession.
If only I'd lived within my means...
But what's done is done!
All this pre-occupation with 'M' seems so stupid now.

Need focusses us.

As I always say, it would be nice if the Christian life came with a guarantee that we would not experience pain, hurt, rejection, sickness, need... but I believe God would be an irresponsible parent if he insulated us from these things. Why do we expend so much energy running away from 'bad things'? So much so that we fail to see the other side of the coin. That 'bad things' can also act as a catalyst for change, an opportunity for growth... Isn't 'necessity the mother of all invention'??
My need is forcing me to confront the deep questions I've been avoiding like,
"Is my Christian walk merely lip service? Do I really believe and trust God to look after my best interests?"

So I choose to embrace this opportunity. In a weird way, I am looking forward to this coming year with excitement.
Perhaps I will experience my own personal manna, quail and water-from-rock incidents. (I've been listening to Exodus)

Jesus did say,
So don't worry about these things, saying "What will we eat? What will we drink? What will we wear? These things dominate the thoughts of unbelievers, but your heavenly Father already knows all your needs. Seek the Kingdom of God above all else and live righteously and he will give you everything you need
So don't worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring it's own worries. Today's trouble is enough for today (Matthew 6: 31 - 34 NLT)

AMEN

Conversation skills

I've been reading a book by Leil Lowndes called 'How to Talk to Anyone: 92 Little Tricks For Big Success In Relationships'

I particularly need it because even though I can start conversations, for some reason I can't seem to sustain them. I guess due to my legal training, I have a tendency to ask 'closed' questions a.k.a. cross examination style. But even when I make an effort to ask 'open' questions and really listen to the answers, the conversation still fall flat. I end up desperately filling the gaps with something 'interesting' about myself. When their eyes start to glaze over, I realise... oops... I've lost them!!

It's ok when I talk to naturally talkative people - no problem there. It just feels like everyone else is hard work.

The book gives little tips that I have started to put into practice. For example, there was a chapter on 'parrotting' - repeating the last thing a person said. I didn't think it could work until I tried it out on someone who traditionally isn't very forthcoming in his conversation

Me: "What did you do last weekend?"

Him; "Last SaturdayI went to the gym."

I parrotted, "The gym?"

Him: "Yeah, the gym. I like to go for about an hour, do a bit of cardio and then weights"

Me (thinking, hey this parrotting thing really works, he's never said a sentence that long to me before) "Cardio?"

Him: "Yeah, I run on the treadmill for a bit, then the cross trainer"

Me: "Cross trainer?"

Him: "Yeah the cross trainer, it really gets my heart going..."

Okay don't over use the 'parrotting' thing because it gets tideous after a while, but it really does work. There are other communication techniques in the book, but can't reproduce them all here or I'll be accused of breaching copyright.

Good conversation skills, like all things, have to be worked at. My new team is male dominated, so conversation topics revolve around football, rugby and geeky stuff - something I don't know much of. The few women talk about TV soaps and their children. Again, something I don't find terribly interesting. As such I can't really join in, and I am beginning to feel ever so slightly isolated? I could be imagining things, but I would really like to be the kind of person they want to talk to, invite out to lunch or drinks after work (been here 2 months and not even one invite...)

Lowndes says that even though you don't know much about a topic, you can still have a conversation about it. You don't have to be an expert in the field, but just know enough to ask the right questions and understand the jargon. To do this, she suggests that when you buy a newspaper, don't go straight to the section that you like (for me it's 'The Ridiculant, Travel section, Cartoon strip and Sudoku in Metro). Instead read something that you wouldn't normally read (that would be the Sports section) for a few weeks. I've tried this for the last week. It's really difficult. Who are these people? In football there is the Premier League, Champions League, UEFA cup. How do you keep up with all these games, and the names of the teams and it's members? And then keeping up with rugby and cricket?? Ai yai yai! It's just so boring!!! So and so kicked the ball, and so and so got sent off the field! Oh yeah.. REALLY INTERESTING! (note the sarcasm here)

But, if this is going to help me fit in to the team, I'll go for it! At least for another few weeks.

Next I'll have to start reading TV Soap magazine so that I can at least know the names of the characters in the soaps.

Pets vs children

I saw this the other day on Facebook and it made me chuckle! So I decided to send it to my friend Emily who is the only friend I can think of who would appreciate the humour. She found it hilarious, although commented

'... the only problem with pets u need to sort them out before you go on holiday!!!'  

Rich and crying about it??

Okay, I don't really know what set off the tears during the sermon at church this morning. 

It was based on James 5: 1-6, about RICH people. The preacher spent a lot of time defining what 'rich' meant in today's context, and came to the conclusion that compared to those poor sods in Africa, everyone in St B's that morning was rich. 

Did you know that according to the Global rich list, I am the 56,418,582nd richest person in the world.

I'm in the top 1%! 

You want to know what your position is on the rich list? Check out, http://www.globalrichlist.com

But I digress, this blog is not about how rich I am. 

The point is, I started crying and I just don't know why! Having grown up in a middle class estate, which was bordered by a squalor/slum, I do not doubt just how rich I am. Man, those people were so poor, it makes the homeless in London seem rich by comparison. I guess you'd say I'm pretty numb to poverty, in the way that most of us of these days are numb to violence. When you are exposed to too much of anything, you begin to accept it as normal. Those videos of kids with big eyes, flies buzzing around their snot nosed faces?? Yep, you know what I'm talking about... don't move me at all. So that can't have been the reason for me crying

 

What makes it so puzzling is that things were going great this morning. A few issues on the sound desk which I sorted out successfully. 'M's dad gave me a big hug when he came in to church first thing this morning.  And then his mom came up to me THREE separate times just to say that she loved me! "I just want to tell you that" 

They are just great. 

Then M ignored me, and that added to the moroseness.  Does he know? Does he suspect that I like him? Is he avoiding me? 

After service, I ran out of the church and WALKED about 3 miles to Southgate! Crying all the way there - deep wracking sobs which drew strange looks from fellow pedestrians. The devil rode on my shoulder, filling my mind with depressive thoughts. I thought I would never have to deal with these again but they have a funny way of reappearing when I'm feeling vulnerable. Finally, feet aching, I popped into ASDA and bought myself some chocolate and suddenly the world seemed a better place.

See? This is what I DON'T want to happen! 

F*ck men! 

Time to start rebuilding those walls!! (sigh)

Just a thought

One of my ‘hell bound heathen’ (her words not mine…hopefully one day we’ll change that around) friends recounted an experience she had in church. Her parents had forced her to attend the Christmas service. The preacher must have preached from Isaiah 11:6 where it says: -

In that day the wolf and the lamb will live together; the leopard will lie down with the baby goat. The calf and the yearling will be safe with the lion, and a little child will lead them all (NLT

This started off a train of thoughts which distracted her from the rest of the sermon. You mean these carnivorous animals won’t do what carnivorous animals do – which is hunt, kill and eat meat??... Especially when said meat is lying so trustfully within paws reach?? What kind of heaven would that be for them?

What about us? I mean, I do like a bit of meat - lamb being one of my favourites. Will I be forced to go vegetarian? Or worse still... eat meat substitute?

Or am I just missing the whole point of the verse?