In the afterglow of my Oscar experience last week I
am taking some time out (knackered after a double delayed train journey
yesterday), de-toxing (stuffing pastries), reflecting on the beauties of life
(worrying about work), thanking god for the blessing of children (really hoping
for a break at half term) and congratulating myself on cheap, hide the lumps
& bumps, ironic decor (my partner used the pages of a Delia Smith cook book from the charity shop to cover a very rough wall in my kitchen).
All I have left to say is YES!
Not ‘yes yes yes oooh yes’ as in Harry met Sally. Nor the Yeeeeeesssss with extra syllables and a
snake at the end that I get when I ask my teenager if she has remembered her
packed lunch today.
It’s not the absent yes – which with hindsight
should have been a no - I often say to myself when I am trying to think of
three different things at once and that same daughter is insisting on an answer
to a vitally important, urgent query that can’t wait two seconds.
It’s not the yes that still sometimes slips out
instead of no when a pal in a secure, well paid job asks if I will come and
perform at their social event, interjecting with a smile and without embarrassment
“there’s no fee” And I don’t ask them if they work for free because I know they
will instantly take umbrage (why don’t I?)
It will not be the exasperated yes given to a
question repeated so many times that even if that question were ‘would you eat
lion dung’ I would say yes just so as not to hear the question again.
It’s not the mumbled yes in response to a concerned
‘have you been ill’ when I realise I look so knackered, wiped out and
un-put-together that the only explanation is a bout of plague.
It’s not the ‘Oui merci’ I once gave to a French
mother while trying not to vomit after she asked if I enjoyed the bouillabaisse she'd just served. To
me it looked like grey/green turds floating in a warm open sewer and didn't taste
much better.
There is a very convincing YES that I’ve practised for
when one of my fashion obsessed women friends (I know only two) demands to know
if I like (for like read ‘am impressed by’) their latest designer dress /
handbag / shoes. I worked out long ago that 'liking' is irrelevant, as is
‘suiting’. It could look like something you wouldn't have saved for the dressing up
box but if it’s got a certain label, is expensive and someone on the telly has
one you are supposed to desire it. Yes gets you out of the spot quickly.
No – this week it’s a yes vote for the Scottish
referendum. You’ll only need to ask why a non-nationalist craves the
opportunity to escape the rule of Eton and the spinelessness of the so-called
opposition and the callousness of a government that only has an ear for the
rich and powerful if you have never before read this blog.
Click below for a comedy performance
poetry treat.
HOW TO BE A BETTER BIGOT
AFRICAN JOURNALIST IN
BRITAIN