I woke up in such a bad mood today. It all stemmed from my rudely interrupted night, and I don't mean of the sexual kind... far from it. Khy woke up at the crack of dawn with a stuffy nose, and I discovered that Rich had fallen asleep on the sofa yet again, leaving all the lights on. Left with the task of sorting everyone out, I dragged Rich to bed and rubbed Khy's chest down with some Vicks. I couldn't even bring myself to look at the clock (a tip I read in this month's Psychologies, apparently clock watching at night leads to anxiety) and eventually dozed off again. My alarm clock shrilled at 6.05am, and despite me slapping my snooze button profusely it refused to be ignored. I eventually stumbled out of bed daydreaming about the winning Lotto numbers, and tried to think of imaginative ways to get out of getting out of work but to no avail. As I approached my car I felt a tiny drizzle of rain and remembered that I never did get round to replacing that umbrella - never a good move for a black girl with natural hair. Driving Khy to nursery was equally frustrating. I swear every traffic light decided to turn red as soon as I approached, and at least two lorries decided to do a three point turn right in front of my humble and unassuming Ford KA2. But despite the delays, I managed to drop Khy off and still caught my train in time -yeah
Work wasn't too bad though surprisingly. It's a nightmare at the best of times, and usually amplified when I'm in a foul mood. But today thankfully there were no calls from emotionally fragile poets trying to recite their work to me over the phone (true story), or pushy mums calling to pitch a non-story about their beauty queen daughter passing her GCSE's. At lunchtime my grey mood was to make an unwelcome return though. I had to go to the bank, so was left with no choice but to have fast food for lunch, cue: CrapDonalds. Whilst nattering to my friend on my moby, I went to pay for my chicken deli sandwich and realised I had no money - shame. "We take cards now ma'am", the unusually chirpy cashier informed me much to my delight. So happily I inserted my card, juggling the transaction along with my phone convo with my mate which had now moved on to the merits of living in Catford, and whether or not moving to Penge would be a savvy move in view of it's chavvy reputation. Unbeknown to me though in the midst of my chat I had left my bloody debit card in the Mickey D's card reader - doh! Moral of the story: if you get out of bed on the wrong side, make sure you lie back down, roll over, and fall out on the right side.
- I am a thirty-something African Caribbean female from South East London. My blog will shine a light on Black British culture offering the best in entertainment, fashion, beauty, community, film & music, with the occasional personal musing thrown in from yours truly. Thank you for taking out the time to peek into the pages of my diary. Now grab a cup of cocoa, relax and enjoy.