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Day 9 – Tight Teething

March 19, 2012

Ok earlier on, well, today I got up, I got dressed I washed my ‘fro, then stood in the mirror daydreaming about whether or not I should just…

Then I started crying.  Oh I don’t know Soul, maybe it had something to do with my effing Mantra that the radio decided to blare out at exactly the same time my mind flash-backed on the way my EX used to go on about how picky and tough my hair was…

He always said it was just jokes, but it wasn’t funny after the tenth-thousandth time! I just tried to say that out loud…it’s wrong isn’t it. Ten thousandth???

So I’m crying and remembering and crying and then I stopped crying because my Mantra morphed into a ridiculous, and dumb wanna-be R&B song that back in the day was the ignored track three on the cassette tape single…you know the one that you’d fast forward on your Walkman cos of it’s trashy Euro dance beat remix…

See what I mean!  I blame…

and…

AND ESPECIALLY…

EXTREMELY IMPORTANT MUSICAL SIDENOTE: Can all R&B/HIP-HOP/Black Artists Who live in Urban Town please gather in an orderly line and report BACK TO SOUL/ROOTS/AND PROPER DAMN MUSIC!

Like…

and…

alas I know I’ve lost the Black Eyed Peas forever, but oh for just a smidge of this…

ANYWAY totally impossible to match tears and forlornness, with anger, disgust and the burning desire to throw my radio outside the bathroom window to join it’s electrical cousins on the new dump growing in the middle of the estate. I NEED to get out of here.

Then the phone rang, and I had like 22 minutes exactly to get ready and down the road to get the 9:33 train without doing a Usain Bolt.  Then when I answered the phone, I nearly hung up cos they actually re-wound and come-again-selectored the dumb R&B song. I almost hung up on my Dad to call the radio station and tell them NO! Not on my morning.

But I didn’t cos it was dad and he sounded weary. Why? Cos of mum. Why? Cos mum and dad hate each other.

No.

Mum hates dad cos he wasn’t the man I want… sorry the man she wanted him to be, the same way my EX wasn’t the man I wanted him to be, which is why my mum hated him as well. But I couldn’t agree with her. Because I was a big woman who was born before my mum. Knew more than her even though she’s my mum.

I had ten minutes to go, but I couldn’t go, because dad was moaning about mum…

No I’m not a selfish, self-centered brat, but Soul. How can two people who have been divorced for twenty-one years, still affect each other so much. It’s like school playground stuff. He pulled her hair. She told the teacher. He pulled her hair again, she kicked him in the leg. Then somehow they got married had kids, had affairs. Had fights. Called the police. Scared the kids. Hugged the kids. Then divorced, and lucky me, I’m the ringmaster in their Circus of Madness.

Cos if you really check it, with only five minutes to go, which I said to dad, to which he said ok ok, but still managed to speak about mum for a further seven minutes…see cos in my opinion, they still love each other, but mum’s still hurt obviously, and dad wants to sweep it under the history carpet. Obviously. Without saying sorry I might add. Obviously.

So I’m dealing with dad, my ugly yet beautiful and strong natural hair, the dumb song on the radio, and then my other phone rings.  Dad hears my other phone ringing, and says, ‘don’t let me keep you. I’ll call you tomorrow. Give my regards to your mother.’  Seriously Soul, today’s morning has been of the most dramatic proportions.

Oh my gosh I have to say Soul I am madly in love with…

makes me want to flick and rotate like a first class video girl (the ones who don’t look like me).

ANOTHER EXTREMELY IMPORTANT MUSICAL SIDENOTE: Can we get a small mutha-effing moment of silence for the amazement that is Afrobeat/Hip Life/African Music being played on mainstream radio & TV.

Young Africans of today, ‘specially those of you living here in Western Lands. You guys just don’t know how lucky you are! Us older generations who had to endure the name  calling, the Ja-Fakin accent adopting, the changing of Ade to Andre and Ghana to Guyana just to get peace in our lives!!!

Fast Forward and now everybody from everywhere is saying Chale, and  now even deh white people’s are  telling small gerls, dat dey don’t know deh ting!

I AM SOOOOOO mutha-effing JEALOUS I wish I was 18 again so I can have just cause and reason to Azonto low to the ground in every single club, every single night, for every single hour.

Where was I? So yeah, the choone had me forgetting time and my other ringing mobile, cos I had to turn up the radio to it’s loudest which isn’t very loud because, I don’t quite know, and I couldn’t be effing bothered to lug it back to Argos cos I don’t have time for bring backs.

So now it’s quarter past 9 and now I have to sprint.  I miss the train. So then I do this thing that I always do in the missed train situ…Stand for about five minutes totally confused as to whether I stay and wait for the 9:48 which takes me part of the way, then I have to change get the Victoria line to get the Central to get the Northern ooorrr…

I run downstairs, get the bus all the way to the Central line and then get the Northern, which means less changing, and more time to go over stuff in my head…

Ooorrr I just wait for the 10:17 and make excuses.

In ten minutes I’m sitting on the bus with teeth grit till my jaw hurt. Cos there’s traffic and it’s nearly ten anyway so then I push off the bus, and run back to the station to get the 10:17 which makes me grit my teeth again cos I haven’t got a seat. Which I would have IF I JUST WAITED.

Soul I have patience issues. DON’T LIKE WAITING. I have to walk if the bus doesn’t come. Go to the next line or the next and then come back to the same one when I’m in Sainsbury’s, ring when they don’t ring.

I get to work, at 10:45, fifteen minutes late, and for all the tight teething it didn’t matter cos HE wasn’t in.

HE being The Lecherous boss who looks at my bum like it’s the juicy watermelon that it is, but not for HIM who is my lecherous boss to look at.

YEAH I KNOW I get to start work at 10:30 on a Wednesday…. don’t quite know why, but it’s a good thing…but not so good when I’m late for the late start…dyouknowaddimean?

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From → The Soul Pages

2 Comments
  1. Dominique riley permalink

    As usually I love it

  2. shez aka Rockstar permalink

    took me twice the usual time as i had to stop and listen and rave to deh ting lol!

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