Uphill

Yesterday I found myself striding over a grassy ridge with the wind in my hair and the sweat trickling down my back. I was finding it all a bit hard going as every time I paused for breath I was overtaken by corduroy clad pensioners. It was slightly disturbing.
‘You’re a bit red,’ said a woman speeding past whose hair retained shape even as the wind gusted past scattering crows and low flying squirrels. She was perfectly cool, her dentures and mascara flawless.
‘What vitamins have this lot been taking?’ I puffed irritably to my aunt. This was after all her regular hiking group and she should be privy to their secret stash. She just smiled sagely and swinging her specialised bag of super nuts and raisins, deftly leapt over the next stile and disappeared into the woods beyond.

We did over 11 miles all in all up what she called ‘gentle slopes’ and what I called ‘bloody hills’ over Royston Heath. The landscape changed mile by mile from empty farm land with golden stubble fields and chalky mud to thick woods opening up to quaint villages followed by golf courses and heath land. The sun shone, then flagged then shone again and the wind blew keenly.

At the lunch break I surreptitiously massaged my knees and put blister packs on whilst the oldies caroused, clinking pints and talking loudly about whose funeral they had last attended. I tried to feign fresh youth by flicking my hair nonchalantly and cricked my neck. By the time we got to the tea and cake bit I was walking like Frankenstein. The rest of ‘em could have gone on till supper. Bloody pensioners. .

Actually it was lovely to get out and just stride out for miles. I have been worrying so much about things lately and I needed to clear my head and get perspective and it seemed to have worked. I did not get the job but I can now tell you that I was a strong candidate (it was a producer position for BBC Africa Service) but they were looking for an anchor and the bloke who got it had 17 years experience. Not a lot I can do about it

At midnight last night I lit candles for Teelo (and the cat)..already gone a year. I toasted all of his friends and family and mine and gave Teelo a shot of gin for the journey as I didn’t have a stone to lay on his grave. Then I slept and dreamt that I had a story that I needed to give as a gift. It was written in ink on yellow parchment. I know it is here somewhere.

Days Like These

Once again I am cramming for a job interview. This one means so much to me that I am not going to say anything revealing about it here in case I don’t get the job and have to act casual and ‘oh well, I was just doing it for a lark..’ about it. However I will say that there is a lot of reading matter…people study for years and still only skim the surface of this stuff.
Intriguing eh?

I have been missing my old buddy Teelo these last few weeks. I especially wanted to tell him about this potential job. It is coming up to year since his death and it is beginning to sink in that we are never going to chew the fat about Obama, beer prices, parties we crashed, dance competitions we won…’the muzungu and the point five’. (White chick and mixed race Rasta). Other friends feel it too. We keen but quietly by email. I still have his last two texts on my phone.

This is Teelo and me and a bunch of impala in Ndola on a film recce in 2000. NB Castle and Mosi

Och well and aye and on we go and all that. Well not if you are a banker. H’oh nope Not if you are hedge fund manager. Mr. Pool your loot and leg it.

What on earth was Old Mugabe banging on about today? God he is one mean old sod – desperately wanting to say he had been coerced into the handshake by the colonial bastards and the enemies within but Mbeki kept giving him Chinese burns so he had to attempt enthusiasm… old goat but still with a scorpion sting (to mix animal metaphors). The heckles were louder but still long distance. No one quite sure how close they can get yet. Inflation in Zimbabwe at 30 million and now the credit grinding (I would say ‘crunching’ but then it sounds like a breakfast cereal) that will start to wilt the ability of the Diaspora to send money home. This is going to affect everyone Africa wide. There are hundreds of thousands of people absolutely dependent on families sending money home. That and food prices exponentially rising and … (I can hear my cousin now. She is yelling ‘ First off you said no talk of death for a while and two, stop with the gloom.always the gloom!’ Quit it!’ She is a New Yorker you know.)

So instead I am trying to unpick a misplaced belt loop from this dress I want to wear on Wednesday. I thought I’d go sombre and classic..but with Big Hair. I know..I should be brushing up on my interview technique but I am worried about the shoes…

Ohhhhhh wish me charm, wit, resourcefulness and the ability to articulate even under stress, to NOT walk into anything too obviously and to engage and enjoy…but most of all wish me luck!

Will let you know how it goes!