Now I know why I do not like the Tube, there is a tunnel I have to cross at least once a day and each time I am underneath it I get so nauseous.

The other thing that I have noticed around Oxford Street there is a man or what look like series of men holding up advertising boards. Mainly it is the eternal annual golf sale, I have suddenly started noticing them along other streets like the Strand, Tottenham Court Road etc there are those who just stand there, those who read and recently I noticed one with a proper seat. Nick –my nephew stealing your style of listing….
1. I wonder how these jobs are advertised?
2. Would you include this job in a CV?
3. What were your duties and responsibilities?
4. How would you describe this job?

Answers on a postcard...... I am curious

As for those who did the quiz you will know that I have six nieces and four nephews and that for me tells me that I am blessed, this is not a pat on the back as I would like to say how proud I am of them and their achievements, their fearlessness gives me a great deal of pride and this is for my nieces and nephews particularly who in the face of so much have proved themselves time and again to be truly worthy people.

The girls are exceptional and it brings to mind a story my big sister told me about my grandmother-Cucu, my mum and her only sister who I am named after during the Mau Mau emergency in the 1950’s the Kikuyu women were put in concentration camps while the Kikuyu men were detained elsewhere. The women had home guards and one guard had it for Cucu, Mum and Aunty and would whip them without provocation. This guard was nasty and every morning if he did not whip Mum or Aunty, he felt that he had not done a good days work. The women’s work was to plant and harvest crops which was used to feed the British army and home guards, one morning the stupid man was feeling particularly vicious but he seemed to have crossed a line as he lashed out indiscriminately and Cucu who at this time was extremely furious and as the whip was pulled back to land on Mum, Cucu took hold of it and together with her daughters pulled the guard into their hut, shut the door and proceeded to beat the living daylights out of him. When they had finished, they went on to tell him that as a man he would not be able to tell the other guards that he had been beaten by women, he never raised the whip against these women again. For my nieces I am not advocating violence but when one is pushed in a corner you do what you have to do…


To my nephews who are gentle giants all of them, so good looking and charming, there is so much potential there, there are two and their picture stays in my mind holding your baby sister, amusing her and making her laugh. Though you have the men traits, your sensitivity is amazing and a sight to behold. To the oldest nephew, I never hear much from you other than you sending me emails to update your contact lists. You are the epitome of cool, and just like the other two stylish and trendy. To the baby nephew whom I haven’t met yet- I saw a picture of you and my heart flipped, I have spoken to you and I can see you growing up to be this handsome young man……

To family for my lovely and wonderful nieces and nephews it is nice to know that the baton can be passed on, your intelligence and wit is a joy and wonder to behold…..

To my new nieces and nephews through the blogworld welcome to our family…..

When I started blogging, it reminded me of this Kalenjin farmer who had gained entry into a nightclub, which was the hottest place to be in Eldoret. The club had strobe lights which snaked on the ceiling and the floor and the farmer had for the best part of three hours just staring at these lights wondering and thinking at the marvel of science, the lights moved in time with the music and he looked mesmerised or even hypnotised. At the time he was the funniest thing at the disco, for some of us, we had become blasé.

I can now imagine what he must have felt as when I started blogging I had that awe-struck mesmerised by the lights feeling about blogging, that I could read and write what others had written. My sisters were so enthusiastic about it and I did not want to be left behind- segue into another story of the three of us going to UG Primary School (after boarding school). Dad took us to school on the first day and we walked or rather marched behind him like those baby ducks in line- our shoes polished and hair combed and brushed and was too scared to stand in tufts as hair was wont to do.


Back to the blogging business, I have had some very good feelings about it and enjoyed myself immensely, however due to not having a computer that is connected it has been difficult to post on my webblog. At times, I have limited time with which to read other people’s posts. This is not an excuse- I remembered leaving comments on my esteemed niece/colleague “begins at home” journal and encouraging other niece to leave comments and we started having our family discussions and the blogging police came hard on us. My thought at that time was what was the etiquette of blogging and posting comments and probably I am still wondering about that even now. In the beginning, I would comment without thought until a fellow blogger showed her/his disapproval. I realised that one needs to give careful thought to comments and that to read certain blogs one needs kid’s gloves. I think I also then convinced myself (still working at it) that I am not writing for my fellow bloggers but for myself.

This blog is for when I am happy, when I am angry, when I am sad. If anyone takes offence at my writing, they can let me know in the comments section, or if they enjoy it, they can still leave their comments. However, what I am not going to do is fret and worry about my fellow bloggers- that sounds cold or that it is a tit- for –tat system of my leaving comments on their posts and hope that they do it on mine. It sounds like I am whining or griping but really I am not. I can still see that farmer at the disco and how we laughed at him but no one would have taken that enjoyment away from him.

I live in a place that is mixed in terms of age, gender but it is like a large store that should have a sign that reads “Pricks ‘R Us”. It sounds like I hate men but I do not, I do admire them but honestly do they really have to think with their appendages and hope to hold a decent conversation with one woman who sees beyond their futile dickwaving contests.

Yesterday I came in tired exhausted after a day battling London traffic. I feel like a nervous wreck about to happen, on Monday morning some idiot had knocked on my door at 5.15 am and the CCTV cameras had better show up the culprit. Ejt No 1 was supposed to give the message to the security to check on Monday, did he? Of course, not- Ejt no 1 is always shouting to me that “ Jesus Loves You” and of course, I have been shown the passage of where if I do not believe in Jesus I am condemned to eternal hell. Security guy told me that he would take care of it. Fine I am bursting at the seams because of Ejt No 1 and try to fix myself a cup of coffee- now this a Rasta man who I have posted about weird man this one is. To cut a long story short I have a friend who says I have a gun in my mouth, and yesterday I was not taking prisoners. This was a shoot to kill policy, not shooting to wound but to kill. My parting shot was this Rasta man apologising for upsetting me and I told him I would wonder why he would think he had upset me when it had absolutely nothing to do with him and I told him to unceremoniously For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge off