Straddling the bath is fine when you’re 20 Queenie, but at my ripe old age it’s not cool – three days of crippling back pain and insult to injury, sporadic bouts of hysteria from my female colleagues as they relive my public hand wash demonstration.
So while you make a strong argument re: the trials of too many kitchen appliances (not at all jealous) I think you should still spend a little quality time on the floor, gently caressing the washing machine, followed by the fridge, toaster and Rich, if he happens to be en route to the cooker.
Suddenly dawned on me that bloglets (not sure of the terminology) don’t actually have any evidence to support my being in Ahhfrica vs. folded into a bedsit in Glasgow with only a candle for light – please see right for proof.
Please send pants aid package – Mama has researched thoroughly and subsequently skyped to tell me that ‘Jesus’ is key… ‘Apparently if you put Praise the Lord and Jesus Rules on parcels, peeps are too scared to pinch ’em. Tip from friend in Arusha’
I’m going to need so much therapy …
So I’m currently living in a university dorm like setting at the office flat with ‘Veggie’, who is fresh off the boat and my instant friend. I love her, want to hug her and fear I may get into terrible trouble with her. Thank God the boys are up country otherwise they’d be wearing pink, with perfectly manicured toes and initialled hair straighteners.
It’s a stop gap until I move into my one bedroom bungalow at the top of Kololo (the Kensington and Chelsea of Kampala Daaaaaarling). It’s hideous, but has views across Kampala down to Lake Victoria and was built by the Brits, so Father will approve.
It’s completely unfurnished so I go roadside shopping with dial-a-boda on Saturday. Dial-a-boda takes a particular interest in my housing situation and insists on helping me furnish it – a black, bike riding Lawrence Llewelyn if you will.
I’ve started to mentally decorate and I’m currently thinking shabby chic safari stylie, but without being one of those crazy expats that are so at one with their environment that everyting is either tree, grass or local fabric.
You know how I covet your flat so suggestions please Queenie?
The Journalist moves in next door so for budgetary purposes she’ll buy the oven, I’ll buy the fridge and we’ll meet regularly in the garden for supper!
Work is good, if a little daunting. I’m not entirely sure what my role is, but that appears to be the norm here; we all do a little of everything. C has told me off on numerous occasions for my English, which apparently is too good and therefore, confusing. I’m learning Ugandan-English, but it’s a slow process and I fear I’ll be told off for using ‘mild-mannered’ in conversation before the week is out.
MD and I had lunch on Tuesday, which was lovely. It’s nice to see a familiar face. He insists he’s been tamed and no longer a party animal, but I intend to change all that (subject to permission from girlfriend) when I head to his Friday for some party that involves a pool and without doubt the potential for bad behaviour – be warned.
Attended a bizarre book launch at the Uganda Museum (the only one in the whole of Uganda people, so be suitably impressed) where people were named and shamed into buying pictures from the book in a David lynch esque auction that was conducted in the dark. I drank through it.
Last night 400 people attended the Steve Willis Memorial Fund Comedy Night at Red Chili, with guest speaker Jane Bussman. Previously a celebrity journalist, she followed human rights activist John Prendergast to Uganda because of a crush, and subsequently (NB this is a black listed word in the office and creates only confusion) to write a story no newspaper would touch on Joseph Kony – leader of the Lords Resistance Army in Northern Uganda who is described as the most evil man in the world.
Despite the subject matter, she is absolutely hilarious and punctuates a highly charged dialogue on the politics of war with self-deprecating humour and a good dollop of entertaining facts about the intricacies of conducting a celebrity interview. I’d highly recommend her book ‘The Worst Date Ever’.
A lot of the old crowd were there, plus some very attractive fwar shwing budda bing newbies. Extensive Chipati hunt ensued before Veggie and I abandoned The Journalist and Co to chase down a boda. Feeling a little jaded this morning.
In other news I have developed a huge crush on newbie eco tourism guy. He’s been living Bruce Parry Stylie in some obscure country in the armpit of South America, and by all accounts conducted his interview up a tree by satellite phone …. be still my beating heart. Unfortunately, I think my somewhat ballsy manner scares the crap out of his mild mannered American sensibilities. Not a great start!
Love ya, B x