A WRITER'S MIND!

WILL BIGGER CONTENT LABELS ON OUR FOOD HELP???

2006-02-19T13:11:14+01:00

I really don’t understand why once again the food industry is being pressure to label their foods, more clearly they say. Why? Let me guess hmm……To reduce obesity figures in the UK, or maybe to make women more paranoid about their food intake?

When my girlfriends and I do our weekly shop, or go out to a restaurant we often keep our mental calorie count and weight watchers point score system on the RED.
Any foods with a high count per 100g is a forbidden apple, and should we, like Eve, be tempted by the forbidden then penance goes without say; perhaps a punitive expedition to the gym, our only redeemer.

Like red ants we march along the aisles of Tesco chanting “Out with the carbs, out with the fats, out with all foods sweet or processed!” OK so I am exaggerating a bit but I really just want to make it clear that maybe it’s not really our ‘poor’ sight that may be the problem such that we need more prominent content labels on all our foods, maybe it’s the education that we need. Shouldn’t we in the UK be concerning ourselves with how to be EDUCATED food consumers?

A slice of toast perhaps?

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Pub Life

2006-02-19T13:07:33+01:00

If you are not from London then you simply must not return to your land without experiencing the London Pub life. If you are from London then I’m sure you have quite a bit to say about it. Myself, I see it through the eyes of a pub girl. I’m no major fan of the drink, don’t get me wrong, I‘ve just developed a strong sense of appreciation for the dimly lit settings, comfy couches, young & working friendly crowds, lively atmosphere, tables populated with glasses and bottles half empty, the thick scent of alcohol, nicotine and Eau de toilette combined to form what I refer to as the ‘Pub Mist’. To be frank, if it wasn’t for my good old English lass with whom I have shared many great pub chats over a cocktail drink and she a can of Stella, I probably would have a less flowery opinion of the pub.

If you know St Johns Wood reasonably well then you will know the little local pub at the corner not too far from Tesco, with the Moroccan touch (you can tell I’m not good with street names), the name I forget. Not too big, not too small, service not too excellent but good enough for an easy late afternoon; this pub I found was quite a spot for a great catch-up session with my girl friend. Comfortably seated and lost in girl talk we somehow managed to blow our chunky table candle that was now starting to take the form of a great piece of architecture, dripping with wax. Well it wasn’t long after I was momentarily left alone at our seat when out of nowhere one of the attendants hastily made her way to the table leaving with the candle. Oh she did return the candle, but only in its modest form, no longer a work of art but a simple, unattractive, unlit stump. Whether there was anything implied by her actions I wouldn’t know and couldn’t care, I was enjoying myself in the company of a good friend.

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Quality Time

2006-02-19T13:00:36+01:00

So just how important is quality time with people in your life; friends, family, those contributing to them special little moments in your life? Last Tuesday was February 14, my lovely housemate and close friend had a miniature ‘rose garden’ delivered to our North London flat by her beloved boyfriend in SA. As for me, the Valentine’s week went by in the company of special people. For once I actually dedicated time to being with certain friends I get so little time with in my very busy world. I couldn’t tell you what a great form of therapy this is. On Tuesday evening I left work and headed for Euston Station to meet with dear Melody for coffee, Wednesday I had dinner in the company of 8 great friends, Thursday I had a chance to get to know better a few others (plus one), Friday in the city with friends celebrating Bhav’s birthday and Saturday, well Saturday afternoon was spent in St Johns Wood in a cosy little pub having girl talk with Kimmy, topped-off with prayer over the great things and great plans in our lives. I couldn’t tell you how much more refreshed and fulfilled I feel. Hmm…..when was the last time you had quality time with those very persons in your life?
Did anyone cross your mind as you were reading?

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London, More Views Than One of

2005-12-12T18:50:04+01:00

It's amazing what you will find when you go rummaging through this city. Central London, where the good marries the bad, the ugly dine with the beautiful, the wealthy swim with the poor, the fools dwell with the wise...love it or hate it, it still is what it is. My view is of an artiste, a writer to be more precise, so if this makes no sense to you then find something else that does. I was out two weeks ago shopping for a venue for Writers Call this month. I raided Covent Garden and Trafalgar square, Shaftsbury Avenue and Charring Cross, I raided Leicester square and Holborn....I was tired out by the time I got to Soho.
What I unearthed I would need a life time to tell you as it is fit to be told so I won't disgrace myself by starting what I am unable to finish, instead I will tip you off on one discovery: The National Portrait Gallery. It is a recommend for those who can appreciate the rich history of Britain personified in fine art. I am one of those who claim not to have much time to travel and experience the very city I live in so when I run into the National Portrait Gallery while on my venue mission and discovered that not only does it have great works of art but also shows from various talented performers (@ 6.30pm every Friday and free) AND has a tastefully furnished restaurant with an exquisite night view of the city central (no point taking spending ££££ on those flamboyant tourist buses) I was over the moon. I know that might sound corny but you must agree there is much in this city you too are yet to discover, of course only if you manage to make the time.

Quick ref: National Portrait Gallery http://www.npg.org.uk/live/index.asp

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So How's The Christmas Dinner Prep Coming Along?

2005-12-12T17:56:12+01:00

Christmas Dinners! For me they are a love hate affair. As a young child watching my mother rush up and down and here and there, shop like mad, 'sterilise' the house, dress the lounge and dinning hall......in preparation for a big dinner believe it or not I developed something quite like a phobia for house guests.

My mum, an elegant and natural host and chef, a talented party 'thrower' was to me only a figure of admiration as I run 10,000 miles from any such affiliation; I must however confess that I believe i have undergone a transfiguration (of some sort) over the last year as only 2 weeks ago I offered to organise a big Christmas dinner at my place. If only you had seen me last week rush up and down and here and there, shop like mad, 'sterilise' the house, dress the lounge and dinning hall....yup just like my mum, except of course I did not only chant prayers to a merciful God but also had a great alliance of supportive & talented friends working with me. The success of the dinner can only be judged by those who partook of the evening but I recall thinking to myself on the night, as I served and danced with our guests “Wow, this is so not for real I’m becoming my mum....I need my sleeeeeeeep".

I now look back and think to myself "I won't be rushing to do that again very soon" but indeed it has been worth every ounce spent. So if you are organising a dinner I will say a prayer for you, its going to take work but hey, it's going to work out

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With All Good Intent……..

2005-10-27T12:01:53+02:00

Remember that time maybe a few years, months, weeks, or days ago when you thought you just might go out of your way to make someone’s day, and with Great Expectations you did not only invest time, effort, thought and maybe money too (these days almost everything has a financial cost) but also took the risk to carry it through, only to get a response you would have rather not discuss. You know, like a mellow “thank you” almost whispered in embarrassment, or an outburst of rage “WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?” Or maybe what you got just an indifferent “Whatever” sort of response. Oh yes, maybe for you all your effort went unnoticed.

Did you then curse your offender? Wring them and hang them to dry with a smile on your face (in your thoughts of course) or did you kick yourself in the butt for being such a *@@:&&*##* and think to yourself “What a mistake!”, “NEVER AGAIN!”

It’s a bit of a painful, ego-bashing ‘surgical’ experience don’t you agree? I can laugh now but for me it was only last week when I had to re-live a moment like that. Oh yes and I did survive the theatre and even better, I am still in the recovery room after that surgery. You see I thought to do a good deed for a pal of mine, a pal I don’t know too well and maybe that was my first mistake (I told you I am still in the recovery room). In my head I had it all figured and there was no reason at all for anything to not go as ideally as I had expected, of course I was only looking at it from my perspective. Well when the milk turned sour on me I admittedly thought “so much for being thoughtful”.
Yes, for days I pained and fought with myself over the matter. I couldn’t figure out whether it was my pal with a warped appreciation for friendship or whether it was me with a totally screwed approach to friendship. To be frank I don’t have the answer yet. What I am learning from the recovery room is that yup… being human I do have limitations, I am not without horizon (including my foresight) so things may not always go as planned, however, I have two choices:
(1) to run 100 miles headless from any such ‘trauma’ OR (2) to use the experience as cosmetic surgery on my character perhaps like the ideal Hollywood nose /boob job (this is by no means an encouragement to physically go for cosmetic surgery)

Hey, life can be a bit of a challenge sometimes and let’s face it; we are all not Mr. Armstrong, but who said we have to be?

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Is Life Passing You By?

2005-10-19T10:33:17+02:00

(Ren, 2005, National History Museum, London)

Did it ever occur to you that there are ordinary people out there living ordinary lives but making an extraordinary impact on lives around them? It’s interesting to know that a lot happens around us and often passes by without us batting an eye.
Three Fridays ago, I had the chance of experiencing an event that like so many others would have passed me by were it not for an email that was most likely misdirected to my inbox.
On my way to London’s West ham I couldn’t hip but wonder what the evening had in store for me. I was actually a bit nervous about this exhibition for various reasons. Firstly I had never myself attended a black history event and definitely not one celebrating the work of a black photographer of Nigerian origin and secondly I was running late, the exhibition was to begin at 6pm and I only got to West ham at 7.00pm. Thirdly I wasn’t to sure if the email invitation was really intended for me.
As the automatic doors of ‘The Hub’ parted to let me into its spacious and well lit reception I felt a slight rush of adrenalin. I had been there before so the well designed solar powered building was not anything new to me but most of the inhabitants were, in fact all but the esteemed photographer himself. Contrary to what I expected the crowd was equally diverse comprising of Africans and Afro-Caribbeans, European and British Caucasians. As I strode further into the reception area I walked straight into a group photo of Joe and his guests posing behind his prized work of both black and white subjects. Only then did Joe spot me and with a look of surprise and gladness requested adamantly that I stand by him for the photograph.
During my 2.5 hours there (longer than I initially thought my fatigued body would last) I met ordinary people making an extraordinary impact in their world.
I was introduced me to a middle-aged couple, members of the Board of Directors for The Hub and a few other similar community centers in Newham. They both had so much to say about what the board is doing, have done, what they have achieved as a board and as a community in reducing crime, promoting health and well-being, creating jobs and much more, I was truly impressed. What I so clearly recall is the men’s health outreach project that they had running for a while with one nurse going into pubs and betting shops to chat to men about issues concerning their health. ‘If they don’t come to the clinic, then take the clinic to them’ a policy that worked well and increased the level of health checks for men in the locality.
As I mingled around the room I noticed an elderly Rastafarian man, seated down on his own. His name Rudy (this is my tribute to him). As our eyes met he smiled as if to say ‘hi it would be lovely to chat’, and being as perceptive as I think I am I went over and indeed I spent another hour with this wise man getting an insight on life from the perspective of an educated, British Jamaican, Rastafarian. It was great to see the delight in him as he gladly shared with me the rich black history dating from the biblical era of King David, to the Colonial era of Christopher Columbus and the origins of his people. So much did we enjoy our conversation that he insisted that I do not leave without giving him a memento to mark the evening. He was a charmer, Rudy; no doubt he must have been a lady’s man in his youth. As I searched in my handbag for something of meaning to give, I came across a beaded Rastafarian ring I always used to wear until it partially cut. I apologised for its state but asked him to keep it and mend it for me (and with a wink added that else I would find someone else to mend my broken ring). We decided to settle for a cup of coffee together some day soon.
Not long after strolling away from Rudy I came across a Nigerian lady visiting friends in London. Once again I was rapt in conversation but this time about the challenges of living in London and the richness of the African continent. It was a pleasant change to have met a proud young African woman in London who was not ready to give it up her home in sub-Saharan Africa for the more challenging socio-economic dynamics of the West.
9.30pm and back on the streets of West ham I reflected on the exhibition and those I had met and all that I had learnt. I could not hip but appreciate what The Hub meant to the local community and the environment. It stands out as a symbol of Shelter, Security, Progress, Cultural Diversity and of course Environmental Awareness.
I can now rest with myself knowing that this one time I did not let the extraordinary pass me by. How about you?

to find out about The Hub go to: http://www.arup.com/DOWNLOADBANK/download385.pdf
http://www.ndfc.co.uk/article/articleview/1341/1/98/

to find out more on Black History Month go to:
http://www.black-history-month.co.uk/

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SUNDAY 6PM SHOW, DOMINION THEATRE

2005-09-12T13:13:42+02:00

It’s just gone 4.30pm and I’m just emerging from the dirt riddled steps of Tottenham Court Road underground station. I’m hoping my long loose fitting jeans are not responsible for the dirt-free trails left behind me. I’ve taken the dominion theatre exist and I’m not the only one; there is a buoyant group of 4 young ladies and 2 guys trotting up right ahead of me and from their accents hmmm…….. They must be Aussie, or maybe Kiwi, sorry I really can’t tell.

At the top of the steps I find myself on the pavements along Tottenham court road. I’m standing right before the dominion theatre and in fact almost right under the famous statue of the legendary Freddie Mercury. Indeed there is somewhat of a show happening later on tonight, 6pm to be precise. Tonight it’s not the famed WE WILL ROCK YOU showing on the stages of this theatre. Tonight God takes the stage.

The sun is shinning and the entrance is swarming with huddles of young people clad in everything from latest jean trends to hippy styles, from formals to ordinary casual. No doubt this crowd is diverse. As I eagerly make my way into the building not yet recognising anyone outside the entrance I’m greeted with a charming smile from one of the many tall attractive young men dressed in distinct Hillsong Host team vests and tags “ Hi, welcome to Church” he greets as he slightly tilts forward to bring himself down to my height. Accustomed to and almost expectant of such great hospitality I return his smile with a grin and stride in. I’m inexcusably late for a team huddle.

By 5.15pm the Dominion Theatre foyer is crowded with a variation, teenagers to middle-aged men and women, most falling in between that category, all eager, passionate and hopeful for the night. Several are visiting but a majority are the dedicated core of Hillsong London. Upstairs a dedicated team, in black, are supplying drinks to the growing numbers; coffee, tea, water, lots of cool water there is no reason for dehydration. The sounds from the worship group in preparation are reverberating through the closed doors of the theatre hall.

As time draws near the background fills with music setting the mood for the evening, its keeping me warmed up, I suddenly have more energy than I had when I first strode through the main entrance. The ubiquitous portraits of Freddie Mercury in the hallway have faded out of consciousness as the Hillsong undercover team take up their posts to make all those in for the 6pm service feel at home. There is excitement in the air. I can’t tell you the number of people I have met in the last hour, from all walks of life, of course a good percentage of them being Londoners, South Africans or Australians. But this time I also met and had the pleasure of being in the company of a lovely lady from Slovakia, Lana. In fact I had met her the previous Sunday when she had approached me and so kindly requested a Hillsong pen to keep as a souvenir. She will be returning to Slovakia this month to resume her postgraduate studies in English.

As the cue music plays marking the start of the service, I make my way to the seating downstairs, that’s where you’ll find all the jumping Jacks. The team have successfully managed to get seats for everyone attending the service. The main doors close. It’s time for the 6pm Hillsong church to spend an extraordinary and intimate time with God.

The next time the floodgates open, a rapturous mass is let loose and once again the foyer of the theatre is crowded and overflowing onto the streets of Tottenham Court road. No one is too keen to disperse from the overwhelming atmosphere of worship and friendship. The 6pm crew is on once again on call and being their usual hospitable selves. It’s now 8.15pm and for some of the team it will be a long night of pack down and loading the trucks, while for the rest of us it will be catching up and forming friendships, meeting point: Bar 101 across the street. “Have a great week!”

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What makes a good read ? This is not a bookworms guide!

2005-08-29T18:57:21+02:00

At our monthly Writer's Call meeting last Saturday i had an enjoyable and stimulating discussion with my lovely and literary-intellectual friend, Val, over a glass of French wine.
The setting at Bar des Amis was just ideal; The theme colours in the room were chocolate brown, deep plum and beige, the lighting soft and elegantly encased and yes, easy listening jazz music playing in the background. The walls took on the paler of the three colours, complemented by an array of classic artworks flaunting both conventional and contemporary ballet. Halfway down, the walls were lined by comfy chocolate brown seating positioned idyllically for little group huddles. Indeed the bar soon filled with groups of young men and women as well as older women escaping, temporarily, from the realities of the world outside.
Val and I were seated not too far from the entrance and just close enough to the bar which was positioned centrally in a traditional French style. As we discussed and compared works of her favourite writers, Charles Dickens and Jane Austin to modern writing and film we pondered over the essence of a good read and came to a conclusion that the success of a 'good read' lies in the balance struck between how much the writer refrains and involves the reader. By making their plot palpable and creating almost vivid scenery the writer manages to reel in the reader, but keeping back certain elements and not giving too much detail permits and encourages the reader to imagine and explore their own creativity, at least within the writer's setting.
I also learnt something about taking risks, especially with books. Val is a latent writer with a classic taste for literature; latent only because she does not nearly exhaust her writing skills. When she chooses a novel, she will pick a SAFE author, one whom she is familiar with or whose reputation precedes him/her. When i asked her why she was very clear that this is an investment of her finances. She prefers to buy her books. If she is buying, she needs to know what she is getting and it had better be something to her taste. I on the other hand told her that i like to experiment with authors and genres of writing. As i explained my reading habit i realised that my reason for my broad and slightly eccentric read is because i don’t make a financial investment on fiction. Like a typical student, i exploit the public libraries across Westminster, Barnet and Camden boroughs.
So have you ever considered what happens to new, up-coming writers (like myself and Val) not yet with a reputation but hoping to be read and maybe eventually replace the Jane Austins, JK Rowlings on the bookworms' home library? There is a war out there.

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For All Those Hiding their Bling

2005-08-17T00:03:19+02:00

(picture by L.Orlando, 2003)

Today i realised that all those distinctive things about ourselves, we dont like to share,
making as cringe in embarrassment that others might ridicule us or deem us some sort of outcast, a land terrestrial of another level

are the very things that make us VALUABLE.

So maybe you know that already and i'm saying nothing new. Yup! But thats ok. I'll just say it again. The perfect illustration:

You see if "Bling" (the real deal) was so common in the market, being sold at every stall in Camden Town for just a couple of quid

then why would anyone make a fuss over it?? Both you and I, your grandma, my grandma, Uncle Steve, Aunty Ruth, Mathilda and Jack, the couple next door, would all be wearing a bit o' Bling.

Seriously thinking about it, that would give no reason for the Queen or Madonna, Puffy or Beckham to wear it with pride on the red carpet and flash it for the press and one and all to see.

If you have any interest in economics- too much money in circulation is not good for the country's health or wealthy- it devalues(weakens) the currency .

The idea is that when you have something rare, something unique to you or to so few others.........well that is your chance, don't bury it under the carpet in the hope it is never discovered (coz someone will anyway)

Let it be your bling bling .

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Travel Estonia? Pourquois?

2005-08-13T21:03:45+02:00

I was at Henry's Bar about two fridays ago when i run into a pal of mine; actually he almost knocked over my table as he hassled in with his notorious rack sack hanging over his shoulder. Unusually positioned at a table for two right by the door, seated on a high stool and sipping on a glass of Rose wine, i was a little bit startled by his sudden presence before me, but quite frankly this was a welcome surprise. It had been some time since our last meeting and even then it was in the busy theatre hallway. If i recall well it must have been just a broad smile of acknowledgment before his tall lean form had drowned in the mass others.

Well after an awkward greeting he embarked on telling me about his imminent holiday trip before school recommences. He's chosen destination: Estonia.
"Oh lover of horses, Estonia " my brain exclaimed.

Naturally i did not hesitate to coarsely probe Why and How. He's response was equivocal and left me doubting, for a brief moment i wondered if this was just an Aussie thing, to go burrowing in the depths of Europe. Now you might be thinking "how opinionated is she?" , but i am sure a few of you are just as baffled as i am about this unspoken of geography.

At the end of this chat with my dear pal, little on Estonia had been achieved as he too, in the spirit of Christopher Colombus, is yet to discover this land. Nevertheless, curiousity now has me by the scruff of my dollar.
Does anyone have any impediments against camping in Estonia?

I have now given myself two weeks to get e- acquainted with this 45,125 sq km plot along the Baltic. I hope to get back to you on it.

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SILENT BATTLES

2005-08-12T02:29:00+02:00

As a human
I exist and try to forgive
As a woman
I care and try to bear
As a child....

As a child
Ignorance is my shelter
In limitation
I vent out
Unintentional is my anger
The situation
When Irrepressible
In frustration I surrender

As a human
I fight the good fight
As a woman
I hold fast to hope invincible
As a child....

As a child
My steps are bold
I know no fear
I live sincere
Just truly me

I say!
This must be
What it is
To be
Free

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title-116809

2005-08-12T01:07:13+02:00

This is a first for me, having a blog. It's just one of those things that i have thought about, been suggested to, but just like paperwork at the office, has been laying there for some time.......awaiting to be addressed upon return from an extended coffee break (I'm sure quite a few of you office 'yobs' can ID with that).

This morning i was on the Northern line dashing southbound to work having just managed to remember to brush my teeth when i got madly absorbed in some writing, inspired by an odd litle chap engrossed in page 3 of the Metro and thats when i heard......yes the famous words " ........EUSTON STATION. THIS TRAIN IS ABOUT TO DEPART..." I jumped up, battling through the barrier of mortals rammed against each other, my rugby training did not help as i saw the last of the platform , the train once again entering the tunnel. late for work again!

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