DREAMS

Last night my dreams were littered with many various and unsavoury characters. I do not remember in detail all that happened but can recall there was a ‘dark’ production of Mama Mia set in swamp land, with a haunted house and the requisite ghosts and ghouls. My imagination truly is alive and well. I only need to watch, read, see or speak to someone and if it makes an impression (good or bad) you can be guaranteed that I will be dreaming of it that night.

So what does my Haunted Mama Mia reproduction represent? Well, I have a feeling that it has something to do with the G20 demonstrations and predicted riots expected in the City tomorrow. Nothing like the slogans of ‘burn a banker’ set to Abba!

Speaking of the G20 demonstrations there has been much speculation about how things will be in the City. Many employees have been advised to either stay home, work from non city based offices, or, if coming into the City, keep a low profile and refrain from any external meetings. Bank of England and the surrounding buildings have boarded up their offices and all is in preparation. But what are we REALLY expecting? Will these just be peaceful demonstrations? Or will it be a re-enactment of the 90’s May Day riots that caused millions of pounds worth of damage with thousands of people running about the streets of London with mayhem on their minds.

I will have to up date you tomorrow. All I know is that I have stocked up on my coke rations along with snacks and other edible necessities .. just in case!

MEN

Not often is Americo out of favour with me but on Friday night I lost all humour.

It started like this, Americo called at about 7 to say that he would be home a little late as he was ‘getting a quick pint in with the boys’. Not a problem. 10 pm came and went and at about 12 he wonders through the door………… with a work colleague. I have to admit that I was feeling vaguely irritated that he was home so late, mostly because we were getting a take out and I had agreed to wait.

My slight irritation accelerated to major when he walked in with his friend. Not because his friend was unwelcome but because the house looked like a hurricane had gone through with devastating effects. Add to that, the fact I looked the epitome of a frumpy housewife dressed in Americo’s tracksuit pants and scrubby old jumper - with my hair perched dubiously at the top of my head. All that was missing was a face mask and teddy bear slippers!

In typical male fashion Americo could not understand the issue? I guess the up side of this is that any future dealings with his work colleagues can only be an improvement on the first. Hopefully.

On Saturday I got my hair cut. I love it and as such was very excited to show Americo. When I got home, after a marathon 3 hours at the salon, Americo was upstairs in the bath. I wondered through to say hi and almost gave him a heart attack as he didn’t immediately recognise me! I have since been assured that he REALLY does like my new blonder self.

TGIF

Today I have travelled London! I have been to the City, The Docklands and shortly I will proceed to The West End and hopefully home. Aaah my poor feet! Admittedly I am not wearing the most appropriate shoes but what can you do? Is it not like I can roll up to a clients office in my tatty old trainers.

This weekend should hopefully be a fairly relaxed one mostly consisting of rearranging the mess that is our household a haircut and lunch. Sadly the best laid plans and all that.. I have just had a call from a friend, who we are meeting next weekend for lunch. Saying that he is now working shift and that the lunch for next weekend needs to be moved to this, which means I am going to have to try and move the lunch we have this weekend to next. When did arrangements all become so complicated? There was a time when I did not need to have a calendar to keep track of our social lives but now things have gotten out of control.

THIS AND THAT

We have, at last come to the dregs of our deep freezer, having consumed many, many K.G’s of meat over the past 8 months. At the moment our frozen treasure trove holds exactly.. one packet of ice and a roast pork! I think this is the first time our ‘cupboard’ has been so bare but we are trying not to do a major shop until our return from South Africa. How we are going to achieve this I am not quite sure. As it is I have had to be very creative with my cooking – much to Americo’s satisfaction! On Monday night I made improvised cottage pie with bacon, mushrooms, peppers, beans and mince. Americo loved it so much he almost single handedly at the entire thing.

This week I have not been feeling very well and therefore a little bit grumpy. I hate being sick, it frustrates me that my brain works through a foggy haze making the simplest task feel like a huge chore. I am sure everyone feels the same but that doesn’t make what I am feeling any bloody better!!!!

As I have mentioned we are off to South Africa in two weeks for my cousin’s wedding and a wonderful 10 days in the sun. I am sure all the ladies will understand when I say “I simply have NOTHING to wear” and so, Americo, taking pity on his woe begotten wife, gave me a budget to spend on a dress. I am glad to say that I have now blown all my cash on a beautiful outfit with shoes (only going over my allowance by £25)!! This is a considerable achievement as both dress and shoes are beautiful and I will get great enjoyment from wearing them often.

Unfortunately that is all for today as my brain is going into neutral and the mist is slowly descending making all communication nigh on impossible.

SOMEONE AT THE DOOR

On Friday night, as I sat at home awaiting the appearance of my husband, there was a knock at the door. Americo hates me opening the door to strangers when I am home alone, so I dutifully looked through the spy-hole and saw a little old lady upon the step. What a conundrum, to open the door or not? Courtesy won the day and I enquired as to if I could be of any assistance. Turns out that she did require some assistance, but not for something I was prepared to give!

Once I had opened the door she asked where the previous owners had gone, did I have a forwarding address etc, etc. I answered as best I could that they had moved on and unfortunately I did not know where too. She then proceeded to say how lucky we were with our house as they, the previous owners, had done a spectacular job of doing it up. I agreed, wondering where this was all leading too, I soon discovered…

“So,” said my unexpected visitor. “How many people live here, just you by yourself?”
“No, my husband as well.” I responded.
“When the previous owners were here I toured round the whole house, I always used to come round for tea.”
“mmmm” I responded noncommittally.
“Nice big house, two bathrooms, the top bedroom is very nice. The one with the en-suite.”
“Yes it is I agreed” wondering when it would be polite to withdraw
“Well, my daughter is getting married in a few weeks and I was wondering if she could move in here?”

Words fail me! I graciously declined her request for family to move in with us.. twice, when asked if I was ‘absolutely certain’ and beat a hasty retreat once the suggestion of dinner came up.

After disentangling myself, I called Americo to give him the latest update from the home front. He, unsurprisingly was flabbergasted saying ‘I’ve told you not to answer the door to anyone!’

So, what is the moral of my story? In future I shall pay attention to my husbands wishes .. at least in this case and ignore anyone who knocks on the door without a gilt edged invitation!!

LIGHT UP, LIGHT UP

In my excitement about spring I forgot to mention that this weekend just gone Americo and I went, with friends, to the Snow Patrol concert at the O2. Walking about the O2 you would not believe that there is a supposed credit crunch slamming the quiet shores of Briton. It was heaving, with queues to get into bars and restaurants you had to fight your way out of the complex to get some fresh air.. or in my case a smoke!

The main act started at 9 so we made our way into the arena at about 8.30pm and managed to get a surprisingly good standing area. As we were fairly close to the front we were in the thick of things with the swaying masses of sweaty bodies. Neither Americo nor I are huge followers of Snow Patrol but we do enjoy their music and there is definitely no better way to appreciate a band than when there are 15 thousand people singing along! Saying that I must admit that my days of being a groupie are well and truly over.

With no smoking allowed in enclosed spaces you get the full sensory attack of bad body odour to name the least offensive. A true delight when you are new to the world of concerts but one to be avoided at all costs if you have a sense of smell! Although, the 17 year olds behind us shouting ‘We love you’ added a certain element of innocent enjoyment; not so the gromit up front who kept sniffing her armpits ….

Feet aching we limped our way home via tube and bus to crash into bed. Ever since I have had their song ‘Run’ stuck in my head never to be displaced. So, in the spirit of sharing here are the chorus words to said song, enjoy!

Light up, Light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I’ll be right beside you dear

SPRING

At last Spring has Sprung! Sunday was our first day, this year, to sit outside in the sunshine and have breakfast. As Americo sat there eating a hearty meal he was blissfully unaware of my mind taking in the garden. Or what will shortly be a garden…

I have grand designs for our little patch of earth and am eager to put my husband to work. Unfortunately, with things related to dirt, I have a slight phobia … I hate my hands getting dirty.

This poses a slight problem, as how can you garden without getting in amongst the muck? Gloves! I hear you say .. but you would be incorrect, I have learned from experience that once my gloves get dirty I still need to start in and wash my hands and so the cycle goes on.

Luckily all is not lost, as I chose the most understanding of men who fully appreciates my dilemma, and does not mind one bit that I shall be directing operations from a safe distance…. Preferably with a PIMMS in hand! Perhaps a little bit of wishful thinking on my part!

CARS...

I was in such a hurry to leave Zimbabwe and do my two or so years of travelling that I didn’t bother to get my drivers licence. This never caused me much of a problem as London is incredibly commuter friendly. Once I had been here awhile I decided that I ought to get my licence, being the responsible adult I had become. So I started taking lessons, the only problem was my instructor turned me into a nervous wreck and after my second lesson I vowed never to set foot on the drivers side of a car again.

I had quite successfully nominated Americo as HEAD DRIVER, this being a win-win situation where Americo got show off his manly driving skills and I could sit there being suitably impressed. However, things were blown off course, when, after much coercion from both Americo and my mom I was lured back into the driver’s seat and got my licence. Americo’s favourite thing was to ‘encourage’ me to drive to the shops.. on my own .. and do the shopping. A very cunning plan of his under the guise of helping me get driving experience, when in reality he just did not want be involved in groceries! I do actually enjoy driving but thought I might share some of my funny experiences in this area..

The first time I went out to the store on my own I had to park the car, no problem… weeell maybe a small one, not enough room for me to get out the door. Easily remedied – jump out the other side and hope the next person who parks is at a distance from me! One slight hitch in my plan, there was a bloke waiting in the car beside me, obviously I could not clamber over the passengers seat, so after much scrabbling about in my bag I come up with some lipstick and pretend to apply. Eventually he left and I dashed out and did the shopping.

Sometime after this Americo, who was completing his ACCA and doing courses on Saturday’s, woke me up at some ungodly hour to take him to his class. I won’t mention my morning thing again but please bear this in mind when you continue to read.

I was persuaded to drop him off and given instructions to fill up the car, how hard can it be? After leaving him to get educated I went off to the nearest service station to ‘fill up’ the car. Hmmmmm… I had not stalled the car AND I’d managed to park within reasonable distance to the pump.. i.e. the hosey thing could reach. Out I got and managed, quite successfully, to get the cap off the tank and start filling the car (as you do!). Once I was done I went in to pay the delightful little fellow behind the counter. He looks at me, looks at my car and says “that will be 28 PENCE please….?”. Had I been more awake I would have handed over my card and said ‘Thank you’.

As it was I tried to explain that I had never filled a car with petrol, in all good third world countries we have petrol attendants! To be fair, if he had handed me a Jerry can and hosepipe I would have managed quite perfectly, thank you very much.

That evening when Americo returned I told him of my distressing car filling (or not) experience. Being the lovely, supporting boyfriend he was at the time, he keeled over and packed out laughing. Men are so smug!

I, however explained the epiphany I had had – next time I have to fill up the car I shall wear a very low cut shirt and incredibly high heals and request much assistance… I have never had to fill the car again.

AUSTRALIA

This weekend we had friends round for dinner. There were 7 of us in total and one baby addition. I love nights like this, good food, good friends and good drink! Not that I am a major drinker, but I must admit that when you are sitting round the table, solving all the worlds problems, there is nothing better than a good scotch on the rocks. Saturday night was extra special as we were introduced to J & J’s little daughter, who is very new to the world at a month old. She behaved wonderfully and to be honest by the end of the evening I was feeling that little tug towards motherhood. Not so Americo!

Americo comes from a family of all boys, his experience of babies is nil to non existent. In fact I remember when we were dating in Zimbabwe and his sister in law brought round his newborn nephew for a family introduction. Americo peered into the pram, lifted some blankets, looked blankly at L and said “where is it?”. Some people love babies, some people don’t, Americo on the other hand just has no idea what to do with something so small!

As I have mentioned before we (I think mostly me) were looking at applying for our visa to Australia. Mentally I have already relocated, planned where we are going to live and envisioned everything. I cannot see us settling here, in the UK and at the rate Zimbabwe is floundering I cannot see us settling there either. This leaves us in a very tricky predicament. Luckily when I chose my husband, I selected best of the man brand. Americo and I are very good at different things, I tend to rush ahead with mad-hatter schemes, looking into this and that, whilst Americo ponders the options set before him, then tackles them in an irritatingly logical way - thank goodness I married him as I am not sure anyone else would stand so strong against the force of my will!

Americo is a natural pessimist whilst I am an eternal optimist and the one trait we both share in abundance is our tenacious belief that we are correct… However, after long discussions I learn to temper my enthusiasm and he takes on some of my excitement. So what about Australia? Well my friends we have decided to delay. Our decision will be made once we have returned from our holiday to Aus in December. This is a revoltingly sensible and depressingly logical decision but will, I am sure, eventually lead to the best outcome.

Meanwhile time marches on, we only have a month before we are off to South Africa and our diaries are fully booked until then.

Homesick

Tonight I am feeling incredibly homesick. Who would have thought that after being away for so long I can still feel it so intensely?

When Americo and I got married his company very kindly gave us a digital photo frame. Until this weekend we had not so much as taken it out of it's box. I am not sure what inspired him, but on Saturday afternoon Americo sat and downloaded photos onto it. Below is the reason for my melancholy mood!

Sunset over Lake Kariba

Dawn on Kariba















HOME!















Leopard Rock - Vumba

HOUSE SHARES

I first arrived in the UK at the tender age of 18 and moved into a small house-share with friends from Zim. The saying ‘you never know someone till you’ve lived with them’ has never rung more true.

I landed in London having been given various warnings about the people I would meet. My particular favourite was “don’t look at any one in the tube.. you will get stabbed”. In reality I should have been warned about the people I was to live with. Having come from a small town and lived a fairly sheltered life my new home was a huge shock to the system.

We moved into a third floor, ex-council apartment, near Bethnal Green station. There were no elevators, a prevalent smell of piss along every corridor and a huge sign on the stairs requesting ‘NO SPITTING’. Independence!

Mud Island, as we affectionately refer to England, proved to be harder to crack than initially thought. As I was so young, with no work experience, I really struggled to find a job. My housemates, all having arrived at the same time did not fare much better. We were all doing various odd temping jobs bringing in enough to pay the bills but not much more.

Our one housemate, S, used to work extremely odd hours. Sleeping all day, working all night. To my naïve mind this was nothing so abnormal.. I mean, this is London. One fine day my other sharer ‘A’ turned to me and said… ‘you know she is a prossie don’t you?’. Truthfully, I did not. It never occurred to me that someone I had been friends with in Zimbabwe would turn out to be a street walker! A went on to explain that she had been offered a room by one of her punters for no rent ‘merely a blowjob a week’! Hmmm.

Anyway, about this time I had to go home for my brother’s wedding. I had only been in the UK about two months and landed in sunny Zim in a bit of a state. One my first evening home with my parents and brother I explained that I was broke and couldn’t get work.

My brother looked at me and said ‘How have you managed to spend all your money’, at which stage I burst into tears and said …

“I’m living with a prostitute!”

I am glad to say things have vastly improved since then!!

HOME ALONE

This weekend Americo went for the bachelor part of the hen I went to last weekend.

As they were flying to Belfast I was woken up at the crack of dawn to drive him to the station. It was a proud moment for my dear husband as I stumbled out of the house in my pyjamas at 6:45 on Saturday morn.

When I returned home P, who spent Friday night and Saturday with me, was still safely tucked up in bed. I thought it was very charitable of me to let her sleep in! When Americo woke me I believe I muttered something to the effect of “if you pull P out of bed by her feet I will get out of bed to come and watch”. You see, if I am unpleasant in the morning P is doubly so, thus it would have made waking up worthwhile!

Saturday night I was on my ownsome, lonesome, P having left earlier in the evening. I don’t know what it is about being home alone but you seem to regress. In that moment, when all the lights are off and I am lying in bed, it feels as though every bogey man from my childhood has come back to haunt me. I know it is ridiculous, but still I am scouring the shadows, looking for my make believe axe murderer who has somehow materialised now that all is in darkness. This reminds me of one big bump in the night….

Sometime ago in our old house, Americo and I had just gotten into bed and turned off the lights when there was an almighty crash. Americo leapt out of bed, yanked open a draw and dashed downstairs to confront our would be intruder. When he came back upstairs I asked what he had retrieved from the draw. To my astonishment I found out it was a hulking, great big kitchen knife! Said knife was kept in our room should the need arise for Americo to protect his devoted wife. Anyhow, that weekend we had friends for dinner and I told the story of Americo and the Knife.

As occasionally happens one of our friends ended up staying the night. The next morning, over breakfast, he tells me how he woke up, desperate for a pee but petrified about going to the loo and being accosted by a naked, knife wielding Americo!