Don’t climb

So you know that I write triction sometimes? Well, there’s this tale that is fighting for a voice. It happened for real. The subject matter is above. Those of you with a grasp of Yoruba will know what I’m talking about. If you don’t, phone a friend.

I could just go ahead and write it, and then again, maybe I won’t.

I’ve had a hectic day. Dropped the girls off at school this morning, parked up, then caught the train.

Went up to London to see one of my consultants about becoming even more bionic than I already am. Waited over two hours to see him, but it was worth the wait (I filled in the time by reading through an amazing blog. Only stopped when my cell phone battery warned me that it had only 15%of power remaining). Then had to go for an x-ray afterwards, before getting a bottle of lemonade from Marks &Spencer and jumping back on the train home. Got in at 2.45, caught up with Ebaby and my mum who was kindly babysitting for me, and about 20 minutes later, we all got in the car to go and pick up my other daughters.

There was an art exhibition at their school today, so we all went in to see the pictures. Each child had done two pieces of ‘artwork’ and I use the term very very loosely. Each piece cost £8. Personally, I think it is a massive rip-off, but how do you explain that to proud 6 and 3 year olds respectively? What I did say though, was that they each had to choose their favourite one, and we’d give them to their dad as Christmas presents. They whined a bit about wanting both, but I told them point-blank I was only buying one each. It did not help that by that point I was almost keeling over from hunger as I hadn’t eaten a bite all day. I was also chewing gum, which wasn’t helping matters.

We got home, and I had a handful of grapes to keep from fainting. Mum made eba for us all, and I sneaked upstairs with my plate and left her to deal with the hungry trio. Mums eh? They are a real blessing.

So I’m pleasantly full now, and waiting for T to get home so I can do my workout. I told him over the phone how drained I was, so he’s helping out with the girls tonight and I’ll get to work on those abs.

My workout? Remember how I told you here about a DVD I got? Well, when I started out, the instructor would be stretching and I would be bending, there was no co-ordination at all between us, or between any of my limbs for that matter. Plus I was hardly ever out of breath because I was doing it all wrong. The past few times I have managed to get in sync a bit better, and I usually finish up a lot less clad than I started out because I am now working up a sweat.

So what does all this have to do with don’t climb? Here’s the deal. If enough people want to read it, I’ll write it. Let me know by leaving a comment. If you don’t, I won’t.

The climber? Only climbs his own mountain now o.

Thanks for stopping by Smile


About Joxy

When I'm not cooking or thinking about cooking, then I'm writing, or thinking about writing. I love misdirection....nothing is ever what it seems!
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12 Responses to Don’t climb

  1. Nkem Ivara says:

    I see what you are doing! Not much use of subtlety here. Well I’m always up for a good tale so get to writing.

  2. Vera Ezimora says:

    Not cool!!!!!!! Not cool at all!

    Oya, start climbing up this blog with the tale.

    *Muffles under breath* Can’t believe she made me read this entire post and did not put up the promised climbing post!

  3. oluSimeon says:

    we want to read… three of us.. me myself and i… 🙂

  4. myne Whitman says:

    What is don’t climb in Yoruba? You’re the friend I called, sue me. 🙂

    Oya start writing…

  5. *Smiles*

    Glad you enjoyed reading our series blog!

  6. Has it really been that long? Forgot how you could be- abeg wite it jo!

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