Can I buy you dinner?

I keep getting approached by random men in the streets with this question and it's not an unusual thing to ask in itself but each time it's said with such gusto that I'm beginning to think there's more to the question than meets the eye.

So walking down the street in Brooklyn, random hispanic guy wearing a vest (yes as in undergarment type vest) stops to ask me for my name and number, the first he gets, the second...ah not so much. As I try being firm but polite and walking away with 'sorry I have to go', it seems like he decides this is the right moment for him to play his trump card so he says 'I'd like to buy you dinner'. Then he waits expectantly as though I'm going to say 'oh well when you put it that way...ofcourse you can have my number'. In my head ofcourse 'I'm thinking I doubt you can feed yourself let alone me'. But once again my mama raised me right so I smile politely, say thank you but no thank you and walk away.

Fast forward a few similar encounters to today as I'm walking down Fifth avenue, I get accosted by a guy wearing an awful awful (no that's not a typo I said it twice because that's how bad it was) check jacket, dark pink shirt and what we Londoners would refer to as 'dodgy' trousers. He offers me his business card which I scan quickly; he's an image consultant - well what do you know? He apologies for stopping me, and clarifies that he doesn't think I need his service but...wait for it....'I'd like to buy you dinner'...this is said ofcourse in a 'wannabe-smooth-debonair-I-mean-what-I-say' way which I suspect is meant to have the effect of me doing cartwheels - and screaming 'dinner? really me?...oh thank you thank you!' Fortunately for him and me, he doesn't wait for my response, no doubt confident that I will be calling that number for that dinner....after all when was the last time a man offered to buy me dinner? ..last week?...oh yes, ofcourse...I forget.

I admit that perhaps I'm harder to please now that I'm older and more jaded or maybe I just missed the memo that went around about women all gagging for men to buy them dinner. I'm hoping the men who read this will take heed - by all means offer to buy a woman dinner but don't say like you just told her you were about to fly her to venice in a private jet. Really dude, its just dinner and how do I know you're not going to suggest some 'all you can eat' hole in the wall anyway?

Why I hate Valentine's day

I hate Valentine’s day. I really do. But please don’t blame me or assume it's because I’m unloved or bitter. I am none of these things and if you don’t want to take my word for it, feel free to ask my gorgeous husband.


I just hate the fact that this day….whose origin no one seems to know or care about, is rammed down our throats every year. Some of us are still recovering from the Xmas splurge, and already we’re being told to pay twice as much as we normally would for red roses, and to spend money on oversized tacky cards written by people who didn't quite make it as writers. And all this leads up to the next commercial splurge that is Easter…or is it Mother’s day.

The concept of celebrating love is noble enough but I think what I hate about Valentine’s day is the mass-brainwash that seems to take over all of us…men, women, black, white, Christian, Jewish, Muslim. At least at Christmas there’s some comfort in knowing that we can escape the turkey by visiting our Muslim friends or even pretend to be Jewish when a busybody asks why we haven’t bought any presents for our children. Yet with V-day, there's no escape and everyone seems to be so comfortable putting on this display of ‘commercialised’ romance. How it annoys me!

I think when I was a teenager, I was excited by the prospect of getting a card which was probably from the class nerd but which I pretended came from the school’s most popular boy. I took the phrase ‘Ignorance is bliss’ to a whole new level. Since then I’ve matured and become a lot more cynical.

Yes I believe in romance but it annoys me to think I have to put it on for one day. Fortunately my husband feels the same way but there’s still the pressure from friends and family and society in general. Already I’ve been asked by a colleague if I got flowers this morning. I'm inclined to email my husband at work and say don’t you dare buy me flowers today and can we please leave the cards out this year, but I know he’ll also have to give an account of what he bought his wife. And then my family will come round at the weekend and wonder why there are no red cards on display. Urgghhhhh! I hate being bullied, coerced into this stupid day. Why can’t I be an Anti-Valentiner in peace? Honestly I am happy and in love but I just don’t see why Hallmark or Thornton’s should get my money today. I’ll be happy to oblige on other days….just not today…..and certainly not because they say so!

Does anyone know of a religion that forbids its followers to observe Valentine’s Day? If so please send details my way….I feel a conversion underway.

Intelligence = Assembling flat pack furniture

Nothing quite tests your IQ like deciphering the instructions that come with flat pack furniture and successfully assembling the item. This is even more apparent when the items come from the Swedish giant, Ikea. It generally includes illustrations of funny looking but fearless cartoon men and series of pictures which all look identical but apparently tell you what to do and what not to do.
The whole Ikea experience is one that you approach with some trepidation to be fair; starting with the decision to enter the gigantic warehouse-style stores especially as it is a given that you will end up with a trolley full of relatively inexpensive things you had no idea you needed when you entered the store over two hours earlier. There is also the anxiety that comes with looking for the items you want in their flat pack form after seeing them nicely assembled on display and ensuring that you have each component needed. This is followed by the fear of pulling a muscle or breaking some part of your not so supple body as you struggle to place the heavy boxes on your cart and wheel them to the cash till.
Like me, you may also fall into the category of the 'brave and stupid' who decide to transform their ordinary car into a delivery van in order to avoid the £25 or £35 delivery charge. Under any other circumstance, the thought of logging an item that obstructs your rear view in your car or causes you to break into so much sweat as you try to secure it in the car, would not even cross your mind. Yet this seems like a relatively effortless exercise after the obstruction course you've already been through in the store.
The experience culminates in the assembly which is to be approached after either some Dutch courage or some form of mental preparation where you convince yourself that yes you can turn these 96 planks of wood and 173 screws and bolts into a bunk bed. I realise that men may scoff at this advice but I believe in reading and re-reading the instructions, checking all the components are there before approaching the exercise in small easily digestible actions, taking the items you need for each section and completing that section before approaching the remaining bits.

I may have underestimated what a challenge I was facing but 4 hours, and some mastery of using the allen key later, I achieved my goal.....a beautiful bunk bed that I would have been quite happy to enter into a competition as proof of my intelligence. It was a tough job but I think I proved my worth and was left feeling if I could achieve this, there was little else I couldn't do. Bring on the advanced Sudoku and the Times crossword puzzle.

Stop that snooping now!

I know it seems like a contradiction to say that people shouldn't snoop on each other's Facebook as that is after all the raison d'etre of social networking sites - legitimized 'curtain twitching'. For this reason, I would suggest that everyone carefully vet who they add to, and what information they divulge on their Facebook. My gripe however is with those 'friends' who are proud to say that they never include any information on their Facebook or update it, the ones who are opposed to including pictures of themselves and their families but are quite happy to view my pictures and visit my page every day. That strikes me as a bit of a one-sided relationship where you, my 'friend' get to take and give nothing in return so I've decided to make it my goal to pull the plug on you.
It's like this....either you're interested in Facebook or you're not, if you're not...I would respect you for simply not opening an account. If you do however decide to open an account then you should populate it, granted not everyone has time on their hands or anything worth posting about to update their wall or profile or status everyday or every week for that matter but when the last activity on your wall was you becoming friends with someone 3 months ago then that tells me it's time for you and I to part company...atleast in cyberspace.

I know for a fact that some people take pleasure in observing the lives of others, passing judgement and boasting that they give nothing in return which is why I want you to forget the numbers game, it's about quality not quantity people. I think everyone should periodically delete inactive Facebook friends. It's extremely therapeutic - honestly, you should try it.
I'm sure like me you hate the thought of someone who hasn't dropped you line in a year or more since they asked to be added as your 'friend' ...and yet still have access to your family photos and details of things you find interesting. On a personal note, I consider Facebook a useful tool for keeping in touch with family and friends all over the globe, and in some cases keeping in touch with people I admire or find interesting... it's less about getting in touch with the old schoolmates or random friends of friends who for the most part I will have little or nothing in common with, but more a way of allowing my friends who I once saw regularly but no longer see because either I or they have moved to another country, access to photos of my children, so they get to see them grow and to hear about my new life wherever that may be.
The 'takers' as I've decided to call snoopy passive facebook friends defeat the purpose of social networking sites. My question is if you're too busy or too private to update your status, or add a personal photo or post articles or things of interest, then what on earth are you doing on Facebook? Television is a far better medium for you as it requires a passive audience....shows like 'Gossip Girl' or the Hills work best as their format is like watching a CCTV recording of someone's life. I would advise you stay away from the likes of X factor or Strictly Come Dancing ('Dancing with the stars' in the USA) as they too may require some audience participation.
But for crying out loud, do stop accumulating friends who you have no intention of interacting with.

Where did summer go?

They say the Brits live for their holidays and who can blame us when summer passes by with the blink of an eye. Each year we're on tenterhooks wondering what kind of summer we'll have and each year if we're lucky we get 30 days of so-called heat wave weather - i.e. 25-27°celsius but not continuous mind you.

When those rare days come, the media gets into frenzy with statistics about how many years it has been since the last heat wave and this is followed by the overly-obvious health and safety warnings telling people to make sure they carry water with them. It’s a miracle people in the Caribbean and other tropical countries aren’t dropping off every second from dehydration.

The British public for their part are happy to strip down to the bare minimum at the first sighting of the sun…..such is the level of sun starvation in this country.

May usually starts off well enough with a few warm days which make the news headlines and are billed as ‘the hottest it’s been this time of the year for the past decade/century/millennium.

June is often the most promising with atleast a week or two of continuous sunshine – in other words decent summer weather. We’re so grateful that even when it starts raining 14 days later, we comment that ‘we’ve had a good summer’.

July which should be the peak of summer ends up being a bit of a washout – we turn into confused idiots not quite knowing what to wear, the mornings are dull grey and quite cold and by the afternoon we’re cursing ourselves for having worn those 50 denier tights which seemed like such a good idea as the cold wind battered us on the way to the office.

Finally August we’re told by the weather forecasters (who may as well be called weather psychics as they are as accurate as Mystic Meg) will see a return of the hot weather even a heat wave or two. And so we wait….and wait…week one…grey and rainy…not particularly cold but certainly not warm, week two – drizzly wet weather forcing us to bring out the spring jackets….then we hope it will all change in time for the bank holiday weekend, we pray that Mr Sunshine will make a comeback bigger than 80s shoulder pads……and go ahead with our plans for the kiddie picnic and family barbecue. Of course, as with each year the chances of a sunny end of August are slim to say the least…..especially as August bank holiday has become synonymous with rain. So there ends our last hope of decent summer weather.

Finally September comes round and we know it’s all over and we want to weep into our scarves. It wouldn’t be so bad if we had had three months of predictable summer weather but what makes it a real b**** and why we resort to flicking through the Mediterranean holiday brochures, is that summer has just passed us by…unceremoniously. Fortunately for us the South of France, Spain, Greece and Italy are a hop, skip and a jump away so we can rest assured that our strappy dresses and bikinis which still have their tags on, will get a viewing at last and for longer than just a few pathetic hours of sunshine which in short is what charaterizes British summer.

My Favourite Three P's

I really do like to eat and one of my favourite dishes has to be any combination of  my Three P's: Pork, Potatoes and Peas or Pork, Peas and Pasta.  Some lovely pork shoulders or chipolatas seasoned and sliced  with garlic and butter...yum.

Well, at a regular gathering recently for us women at re:view and our ever-growing base of friends, one friend walks in looking amazingly slim and trim (nearly back to pre-baby weight).  After a fun game of guessing how she did it--no, she wasn't with a tape worm, and she did't catch the ever-elusive-but-highly-sought-after tummy bug--she told us about her secret weapon...a book of all things! (and, for the record, she did not eat the book)

"Stop Counting Calories & Start Losing Weight: The Harcombe Diet" by Zoe Harcombe teaches its followers to lose weight and keep it off by following three phases of eating designed to keep the hunger bug at bay and reduce your cravings.  Thus, one can stick to it and eventually lose weight. Phase 1 is just five days long and is similar to the popular Atkins Diet.  It kick starts your body to a new way of eating.  From what I've seen of friends who've done it, very short and effective.  Phase 2 brings in more variety of food and continues the war that started in phase1 of attacking the three food cravings which the book focuses on, namely Food Intolerance, Candida and Hypoglyceamia.  Phase 3 continues the work of phase 2 but with even more freedom of foods.  Harcombe calls it cheating without gaining weight (I'm still a bit fuzzy on this one, but I already like the sound of it).  By this point, I assume one will have already gotten used to a new way of eating and having seen the impressive results (weight loss, feeling great, lots of attention from the husband) know what works for their body.

I've seen the proof in others who have followed in our pioneering friends' footsteps and joined the Harcombe bandwagon.  What appeals to me is that, save the first phase, there are no restrictions (!) to what youcan eat, nor are there any quantity restrictions (!!).  Instead, this diet gets one to think of things like GI and how one mixes carbohydrates and fats and proteins...or rather how one doesn't mix the three-hence my goodbye speech to my favourite Three P's.

Also, as the good old metabolism slows down to snail pace and the love handles and back fat start to take prominence, the Harcombe Diet promises to be the one that will totally revolutionize the way I've been looking at food and provide me with a way of eating for life without completely missing out.  I'm not one to go on diets, but wish me luck as I embark on this one..many a friend have gone before me and I look forward to it.  Look out for a future post titled 'My Favourite Two P's'!

Table for One

It takes a certain amount of thick skin to walk into a restaurant, a proper one and book a table for One. Yes that's right, I'd like a table for one, no I'm not expecting a friend or a date or some other random companion, just planning to eat a nice meal, with a glass of wine on my own.
With an hour to kill before a play I decided to go and eat at a  restaurant and found my experience suprisingly comfortable. The waiter who welcomed me was very polite and showed me to my table, there was none of this removing the second chair or shouting to his colleagues that there was a loner in the house that we often find in films. Infact I found another lady also eating alone albeit with a newspaper for company. There was probably a slight unease on my part as I found it difficult to take my time and savour my food and wine alone. There are no conversation fillers to go with the slow and deliberate chewing, no comparing notes or eating off your companion's plate. I found myself eating much quicker and was quite eager to get the bill. The other diners were also completely oblivious or maybe even indifferent to my dining experience and I probably could have stayed there for much longer without any issues whatsoever.
Things have clearly moved on and eating out alone need not be a dreaded experience. Obviously its preferable to share a restaurant experience with friends or partners but should you find yourself alone and keen to enjoy proper food, then fear not, pop into any restaurant and book a table for one....as loudly as you please. Then sit down....take your time and enjoy!!

My heart strings have really been pulled with John Lewis' new TV advert set to Billy Joel's beautfiul song, 'She's Always a Woman'. At first I couldn't figure out it's magic hold over me or why I identified with it so much (why, on God's Green Earth does it reduce me to tears each and every time?). But I finally put my finger on it and realised that it speaks to the many stages that women go through in life. I smiled to think how my parents lovingly cared for me when I was only little and totally dependent on them...the fabulous college years...falling in love...having the bambino's...raising said bambino's.

It makes me realise how one must live in the present and that my life is going as it should be--the fun bits and the less than fun bits.

Apparently, John Lewis has a lifetime commitment to me. I never knew it, but I believe they just may do.

Love = Responsibility

I'm always telling my boys how television rots the brain. Mostly they just ignore me but every once in a while will actually humour me: "Do you mean like your brain stops working, mum?" "EXACTLY!" I tell them.

It’s the age old dilemma of doing as I say rather than as I do because (I admit) I probably watch more TV than I need to. Though there is some real junk out there on the silver screen these days (Eastenders and Total Wipeout not included) every once in a while the networks come up with a real gem.

Welcome to Lagos on BBC Two is, in my opinion, is one such diamond in the rough (with emphasis on the word rough).

This programme focuses on the lives of people of the slums of Lagos and on the face of it, the inhabitants should be pitied. But on the contrary, they are rich in the ways of family, work ethic and get-up-and-go-go-go!

There are many lessons that one may take away from the BBC three-part series. For example, in the lesson on recycling we see how the discarded waste is trawled through and used in enterprising ways such as for creating landfills and profitable industry. Onto 'Determination 101' and we see how our protagonists work long, hard hours in extreme conditions (we're talking waste grounds and sewers here) in order to support their families. This syllabus in this school of life in Lagos including 'Citizenship', 'Home Economics' and my personal favourite, 'Every-Cloud-has-a-Silver-Lining'.

It's the kind of television I'm happy to watch with children as it raises interesting topics for thinking and discussing and learning. It simply reminds us of the basic values of family and the equation relating love and responsibility.

MY PERSPECTIVE

Growing up in West Africa in the 80’s, there was a distinct lack of any cultural “local” artifacts in any self respecting African’s home. I also noticed how my comments of “wanting to furnish my house with the wicker chairs” (particularily those sold on the sides of the roads) constantly fell to deaf ears and curious stares. This of course lead me to believe that this is a definite lack of appreciation of our heritage, another issue the colonists have left us...blah blah blah...Roll on 20years and suddenly you can’t help notice the avant garde pieces of FANTASTIC art poignantly placed in almost every home! Suddenly, Africans are name dropping some local talent and the cost...yes, there is ‘loud’ murmurs of thousands of dollars that has been spent, and “how expensive ‘A’s art costs and “how prices change depending on who is purchasing.” So did we learn to appreciate our own culture...hmm not sure about all of that. What I am sure of is that the quality and finish has vastly improved. Gone are the art pieces of African Heads and Salad forks targeted to the tourists and africans living abroad. Gallery spaces as sought after , champagne and canapes are served at Art exhibitions and a swarm of “who’s who” in society are ever present. There is a huge movement in our art and we are shouting it LOUD and shouting it PROUD!!

What's in a Name?

I love being married: to have, to hold, in sickness and in health, etc...it's a beautiful thing. But do I really need to take on my husband's name? Oh, I know we're meant to, but I don't want to give 'me' up...excuse me, of course I mean my name. I've lived with it my whole life and have become quite partial to it. As my friend laments, "I've finally come to love and accept my name, I used to think it was long and hard to pronounce. I don't want to lose it now that I've found peace with it."

What does this say about us? Are we bad, selfish wives? Are we just trying to have our cake and eat it too? Enjoying the trappings of marriage (...to have, to hold, etc...) but acting out our single, independent days sans the 2.5 kids when we had disposable income?

I guess I could go double-barreled but my hand would hurt...DO I JUST NEED TO GROW UP?