Managed to tape two of my favourite songs from Jazz FM and I am wallowing like a hippo in a mud bath- Luther Vandross- “Thinking about you” and the Temptations “Stay”. Sweet bliss!

I am aching to fall in love with my Mr Right, my Prince Charming. I am ready for this, been preparing for it for a long time. I fell in love nearly 22 years ago and I need to feel like I did then although the attendant misery, despair etc. was there. It felt good to give my abundant love to someone else. He did not cherish it or take good care of the love. Nevertheless, I had all to give, I gave and with hindsight, I know that it was not wasted. Half of me still loves the person- the foolish me -the logical one told me to move on and I did only to end up in my definitions of rogues and wastrels even non-people, unappreciative b********s all of them as I wanted to recapture that ecstasy with my first love. I am still learning and I guess I shall be a doddering old fool before I stop learning. What is it to be loved – totally and completely, what is it for a man to be captivated and entranced by my charms. I have never known that and maybe that is what I should go for. A man who is there for me-my backup- the one who settles me the one who supports me. What is it to be loved foolishly, what is it for a man to wake up and think of me all day? What is it when a man writes romantic songs for me and even sings them badly? What is it for a man when he is momentarily lost in thoughts about me? What is it for a man to love me, really love me and he knows he is half a man without me. What is it to be cherished, to be reminded constantly that I am loved by actions and words? Of course, these feelings are shared by both of us- that the love we feel is mutual- otherwise the man who loves me like this and I don’t feel the same way ends up being a pest and a pain in the you know what.

This Rasta man where I live started this conversation with me about something he said “Did you have a hair out a few weeks ago; I have only recently re-plaited my hair”. I said “Yes” then he said “I saw you in my vision”. I said “television”. “Oh no” he said “when I go to sleep my dreams are my vision I call them vision”. Apparently, I helped him out in his dream and that I was kind to him and that this happened in the land of our ancestors or the ancient spirits. We stood talking about it. I asked him “How old are you” and he said "I am 33 years old" and I said "I was old," he said" very old, yes he knows very old". Every time he sees me at breakfast or dinner time I remind him of his vision. I had to tell him that it was Nyakehu’s spirit my great grandmother who appeared in his vision and that l am too westernised to be floating in people's vision. Television maybe!!