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Day 10 – Malaga’s

March 26, 2012

So after finally getting into work, I was already counting the hours until I met Tameka for lunch.  We meet, we moan. I hate being PA to a letch who runs the production studio I want to own and Tameka hates her job because I hate mine, cos really, she’s happy cos she gets to style sexy young things and sexy old things and most importantly sexy fit famous things cos she’s a freelance stylist.

Then after lunch Cassie who sits at the desk right next to me keeps sending me stupid emails, to which I reply with equally as stupid nonsense-ness.  Then with half an hour to go we stop all the madness and do ten minutes of pretend work, then stretch and say out loud to all the grown up well behaved workers ‘gosh I need a drink after all that work!!’ in a nudge-nudge, wink-wink, workload’s killing me sort of a way.

Meant to be words we flippantly utter as we exit the building, we are bloody agreed with by the rest of our colleagues who are quite surprised that the black girl crew are actually suggesting going for a drink. So they all shut-down, log-off and run to the door before we could change our minds.

If I’m honest though Soul,  the only reason I didn’t get Cassie to phone my mobile from her pocket so I could answer and fake an emergency to get out of the whole thing was because I needed distraction from thoughts of whether or not Marcus really, really was coming round to get his watch later.

When we entered, Malaga’s, ‘their’ local, me and Cassie held onto each other like over-age twins going to school for the first time after years of home tutoring…

We turn to go but…

…who edits stuff and is the archetypical graphic designer/editor, 28 yet reeking of eau de teenage student, with his retro t-shirts that speak of political issues of time ago, ripped and frayed jeans which are the same every day, and the requisite not quite long enough sleeved leather bomber jacket, that I quite like but worry about when he wears it and only that on top of a retro t-shirt in the dead of winter…

(One thing, Soul, I do envy of the Caucasian person is their ability to wear summer clothes in winter.) I’m sooooooooo jealous of…

…the receptionists, who wear one layer and a jacket with little pumps and no socks or tights, when a blizzard is a blowing. Cassie and I constantly mouth open and do the black girl act when we see them practically naked in arctic conditions.

‘Uh-Uh, girl aren’t you cold? Nah man, Cassie check these two goin’ on like it’s Jamaica outside. Laaaaaaater!!’ and Amanda and Jackie will laugh and shake their hair cos the black girls are paying them attention, including them and paying them a compliment they think, but are not sure cos it does sound like we’re shouting at them. But they laugh and laugh at our skiwear, and laugh as Cassie and I go to our desks taking off our thick woolly hats and scarves, shrugging out of our heavy, thermal, duck feathered winter coats like bears shedding skin, pull off two jumpers, and maybe a cardigan to then, reveal the sexy young bodies buried underneath.

(I hate when it’s winter. I have to rely on the little space allowed between hat, scarf and hood to entice a potential husband.)

Sorry. Back to Malaga’s. Bob runs to  order the drinks in so me and Cassie are trapped,  but we make a secret pact to leave in ONE HOUR.  So we clock watch and eye our surroundings suspiciously.

Oh the music, which I have rudely forgotten to explain was strictly ‘80s pop. For which I am happy. For which helps my time move along nicely in this world outside my world. For which causes my co-workers look at me surprisedly and relaxedly, realising that I’m not just into Gangsta rap and belting soul ballads.

Amanda and Jackie who you always speak of together the way they always say Cassie and me, then took it that one step further, dancing the old ‘80s pop way…

…and then I did battle…Wanted to dance Soul, SOOOOOOOO wanted to dance. If I was in a bar in the hood, with The Girls and the afro’d Backbones, I woulda been in the middle throwing it down, but in Malaga’s I couldn’t. I shimmied my shoulders with Cassie but refrained from getting up. Much to the protest of all our colleagues.

Soul. No. I couldn’t dance because then I’d be a puppet on show, a Minstrel doing the Cake-Walk for the master, throwing my hands up yelling Mammy. That expectation of dancing, singing, running and maybe…because Cassie was there…maybe, if she wasn’t there, and if I was a bit drunker, I would have danced and then felt ashamed at home, or when I was reading one of my cultural books, or watching my favourite film EVER…


Anyway I resisted and I noticed the slump in everyone’s faces. I’m not being paranoid Soul. Cos Cassie and I discussed it. She’s a Black Panther too and if she saw it and I saw it then case closed. They slumped; they wanted to see a show. But we stuck to being the not so sociable black girls.

It was all soon shrugged off though, cos then it was Amanda and Jackie slow dancing to…

…with Bob sandwiched between in between them…

AKA ‘The Stuck up Bitch’, head banged with…

AKA ‘Mr Think I’m Gods Gift To all, with my paunch and bald spot, even to the two black girls who have pictures of famous black men half naked and perfectly formed over every inch their work space allows’.

Cassie and I watched and shook our heads at the wonder of how ‘they’ have fun, then…Soul…the DJ really took the piss he played a Madonna ANTHEM of mine…

Let me tell you about Madonna… ‘80s Madonna helped shape my life when I was growing up, along of course with Janet Jackson, Whitney Houston, and PRINCE (we’ll talk about him later).  But ‘80s Madonna had a rebelliousness I envied, think it was the black all in one she wore in…

I wanted the all in one and I wanted to Keep-uh My Bay-Beh ooooohh-uh-woooooh.

But be WARNED though Soul, it’s only about, ’80S  to early ’90s  Madonna. When she started going into the Evita grown up sensible and together mama Madonna, and ESPECIALLY now with her current won’t let it lie-over exercised-can’t stay out the charts so trying to collaborate with anyone remotely cool ole mama Madonna

She became just another singer to me….(Be warned Beyonce)! (And okay this song is not too bad…but STILL! Work on a greatest eighties hits only concert tour and leave it at that Aunty Madge!)

But anyway Soul the Dj did it. He played all of my ’80s Madonna favourites in a fantastical medley mix. I had to get up, and I forced Cassie to get up even though she was only pretending to be forced, cos she like me went to posh nearly all white schools, had best white girl friends and spent 3 months being a Goth and loving Slash from Guns N Roses, so she understands and was PRETENDING to be forced.

So there we were getting on down  in the most conservative but song appreciating way we could, when the door to Malaga’s opened, and in walked my EX with a group of friends…

EXHALE….BISCUITS. CRISPS. CHOCOLATE…before I can continue Soul…

Ebs xxx


From → The Soul Pages

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