Danielli of Heritage London

There comes a time in the life of every young adult when you ask you,

“What the hell am I going to do with myself?”

It’s quite bizarre. It’s like sailing down a particular river for 21 years and then finally reaching it’s mouth only to realize that there was really no need to hurry. That the open sea really isn’t what it’s cracked out to be. At this juncture several of us drop our anchors and stagnate, and some of us tack and gybe around the mouth, moving from side to side, without progressing. We go on gap years, do more degrees and have several mid-mid life crises. But all of us at some point during our higher education experience have a conversation of a similar vein to the one below.

Enter Alphonse, AmDrag (Short for American Dragon. Note that he is neither American nor dragon but he is and will always be a boss. Of course there is a need to describe what exactly is meant by boss in the context of this feature. A boss is one who commands respect without having to do very much at all. When he does us the profound honour of forming words and imbuing them with the vibrations from his undoubtedly spectacular voice box, we all sit as though high, for his philosophical utterances leave us utterly bedazzled.) and Sexycat (Mr. Freshe. Yes with an E. That’s how fresh he is. Whenever you observe his extremely well dressed countenance you sigh and tap yourself on the head. It is necessary that you wonder how you did not think of the odd but hopelessly cool combination of clothes he has put on his very fine frame.)

I would include myself but there’s no need for this. If I were not there, the conversation could never have been transcribed.

AmDrag: Sirs, how are we going to line our pockets in the years to come? It is important that we come up with ideas.

Alphonse: I concur. At this he breaks into song Make money, make money money money.

SexyCat: It is essential for our very survival!

Afam: Indeed. I think that we should go on a gap year.

AmDrag: What does a gap year have to do with anything.

 Afam: Well, this gap year will be different from all others, you see.

Alphonse: How so?

Afam: We should all go to separate corners of the world and find ourselves.

SexyCat: Why? Can’t we find ourselves here?

Afam: It will defeat the purpose! One never embarks on spiritual discovery in his own backyard. You’ll be breaking tradition. While we’re away we work on ourselves, you know? We discover what it is we’re good at and when we come together we compare notes. We will choose the most lucrative talent and push it. Among us we’ll find a manager, marketer, and treasurer to back the talented individual. We’ll be a productive entourage.

Alphonse: And if we fail because we choose wrong?

AmDrag: Then we fail together. All for one one for all...

SexyCat: Sure! But if you’re quoting from the three musketeers, I’ll be Porthos.

Afam: Undoubtedly.

Happy Days,
Afam.

I am now a spambot, yes, I share my links incessantly. I facebook them, I tweet them. Today I looked at my facebook timeline and realized that there was nothing on it that was not blog related. When I'm not spamming, I'm writing and thinking about more innovative and compelling ways to spam. It's really quite extraordinary. As a result of this I'm very sensitive to spam. Whenever a link pops up on my livefeed, I click on it because I'm hoping that someone, somewhere is doing the same to mine. There was this link that kept popping up, http://heritagelondon.co.uk/ and because I Afam, am not only legendary but infinitely generous I clicked on it. It is truly extraordinary that I, Afam, a minor celebrity with 195 likes on facebook (LIKE MY FACEBOOK PAGE) should click on anything but I was particularly pleased that I did, because I saw this...

On seeing this, a lesser human being might have been thwarted fror while it was cool, it revealed nothing. I did the only sensible thing that I could be expected to do in such a difficult situation and scrolled down. No, don't be daft. I'm not going to tell you what I saw, you'll have to find that out for yourself by clicking on the following link http://heritagelondon.co.uk/.


After a lot of reading and clicking, I found that HERITAGE MMXXII (That's the year 2012) is a fashion label run by Melissa Nyasi and Danielli Ofori-Atta. Danielli was the one that spammed me. They'll have the following t-shirts on sale after today, as today is their launch.

All their t-shirts are £25. This one's quite cool. It's inspired by their original totem symbol. I have to say, I imagine that I'll look quite good in this. It's that alternatively cool look I've been trying out. It's just so chilled! It's called the Kenzo.

This one's their original totem symbol. As you can see it's the same as the one before it, except that the logo is tilted 90 degrees to the right and it's smaller. If you buy the one before it, you'll have to buy this one too. I mean, there's no reason not to. Get one in September, and one in October. You'll hardly notice that you spent the money and you'll get 2 pretty darn cool t-shirts too.

This one's the Salome. Apparently this is the one that started the movement. Without it, heritage wouldn't be what it is. It's so delightfully emo. It's definitely a t-shirt for the shallow, because it indicates that you've got some form of depth. It's the first part of a collection with three water colour pieces.

As far as I can tell, this is another version of the one above.

At this juncture I'm quite perplexed. It's like they took a mini stroll in my head and managed to produce a lot of the stuff I was thinking about and feeling. I realize that I'm in danger. I'm quite firmly entrenched in their catchment area. Apologies Papa Afam, I'm a lost cause.

This one's sure to get you noticed. The guy or girl that you think is ridiculously beautiful (We've been through this already, if women can be handsome, then men can be beautiful. I am a beautiful man. Mama Afam tells me so. Did I ever tell you that my nickname was Handsome?) will be sure to comment on it and then BOOOM CHAKA WAWA- you're in! If that conversation doesn't end with you collecting some digits then you shame me.

Yes! Keep talking to me. I can't be helped. I don't even mind that they're white and can only really be worn once before they have to go in the wash and I'm sure that once they get their feet in the ground they'll have several more delightful colours. I'm not myself. I can feel the money draining from my bank account already. Call me customer number 1. This is a great t-shirt too. I don't know what's on it, and that can only ever be a good thing because other people won't know either and then they'll have to ask you about it.

This one's nice, but I must confess that I'm quite relieved, because while I like it and if any one of my friends wore it I'll say great t-shirt buddy, I'm just not compelled to buy it.

This one's called Rahma, they say that it embodies mercy, peace and justice. I say, " I have a beast inside me, and it's dying to come out".

 Needless to say, I'll be getting quite a few of these. The only thing that could put me off at this point is how they fit. The fit of a t-shirt is often more important than the design on the t-shirt itself. But even if the fit sucks I can assure you that i'll get Rahma in XXL. My sister, Bintin adores massive t-shirts. She sleeps in them. Rahma looks like she'll keep the baddies away from her.

The t-shirts already have names so you don't have to think of them yourself. 

I wanted to improve my chances of getting a discount so I lassoed Danielli into my office for an interview. Stay tuned. 

Happy Days,
Afam

• Go to your second choice. (It’s still a University you should be grateful)
• Go into clearing. (Hustle for a place studying anything in a reputable school)
• Take a Gap Yah and re-sit your exams at the first opportunity.

Fam,

Summer's come round again and I'm trying to rectify my errors from last year. I'm trying to remove that black mark against my name in the love department. You may or may not know that I have been chasing a particular female for some time now. Even while adventuring and Bunburying up and down town she was never far from my thoughts. When I played harpoon the whale (I recommend this game whole heartedly) she remained in my mind somewhere inbetween the harpoon and the whale. I try to remain professional and aloof when I'm around her, just like all the books say. I try to radiate the quiet confidence of Joe Black in the movie Meet Joe Black, I try to exude the charm of Hugh Grant, because that guys charm borders on twattishness. It's not right for a man to be so charming. Lastly, I try to embody the pretty boy looks of Chris Hemsworth, this is extremely difficult but I power through it somehow.

Whenever I'm around her I tighten the buttocks, push out the chest, suck in the tummy and assume a perplexed but cute, worried but strong, sexy but shy, pretty but deep, aloof but keen look on my face. Much to my surprise this has not worked. I have also tried wearing my man musk so that she's attracted to my pheromones, and various mating dances. These dances are often so complex and outstanding that after any display I am escorted off the dancefoor by burly men. This is undoubtedly to keep the hoards of females away from me. While there have been hoards of women, she has not been among them. I started to wonder what I was doing wrong, but then I found her twitter account through intense stalking.

She writes and I quote, "Dodo is the food of champions. It needs to be sweet and not soggy. No salt required". If I cannot dance my way into her heart then I shall cook my way there! Will you help me?

Later,
Ogilvy.


Gil,
I trust that this email finds you well. We will have to discuss some of the things you wrote... I fear that you may be overworking your facial muscles. While you are not at all bad looking currently, I'm fairly certain that if you continue with these exertions you will lose what little looks you do have. Having said that, I am quite pleased that you've come to me with this issue for I am fairly skilled in the frying of dodo.

Cut the plantain into neat slices and put them into a bowl. Heat a significant amount of oil in a frying pan. Here I'm working up the nerve to drop the plantain slices into the hot oil. This is a fairly risky task because chances are that the oil will react most violently to the introduction of the plantain slices and burn you.

Stretch out your arm, tilt the bowl and tense your quads. The frying of plantain is an art. It requires all your body parts to work in perfect tandem.

The moment you empty the plantain slices into the hot oil, you scoot backwards. In this instance, i have scooted backwards so quickly that the very capable DSLR Canon Camera cannot focus in time to catch me.

I have just come to a stop. I quickly check myself for any damage.

I am a boss. I have escaped unscathed.

This incident needs to be celebrated by dancing the dodo dance. It's very much like the tap that dance I taught you at school. You get low, and pelvic thrust like there's no tomorrow. If done right, you will look like you're humping the oven. Don't worry about this, I'm pretty sure that the oven enjoys that sort of attention.

Now it's time to transfer the dodo to a plate. I was still high off the fact that I had not burned myself. I'm a boss aren't I? Yes, That is an apron. Aprons are important so that you can properly channel the chef that you admire. Mine's called Fregz, but yours is probably Gordon what's his face?

Dodo is best served with Corned beef sauce and a dash of ketchup. No, it's not burned. I just like my Dodo on the dark side.

I hope you get the girl this time buddy. You have endured untold levels of suffering at the hands of females. It's a wonder that you haven't become a Jesuit. We're all rooting for you. Bring this one home to the lads.

Take care,
Afam.


To the rest of you louts, Ogilvy's already on it like a bonnet. I think it's high time that you hopped to it too. You've got a little over a month till the end of summer and I know from experience that you can fit two or even three flings into this space. Don't go as high as four because too much fun is always and everywhere a bad thing.

Happy Days,
Afam.

Yesterday I regaled my misadventures with Vodafone in great detail, but I made no mention of the blackberry. I'll be frank. It has been quite sometime since i referred to that thing as a blackberry. It leaves a funny taste in my mouth. Whenever I refer to my blackberry the prefix crack, struggle, bad or shit is usually used to replace black. Why do I have cause to insult my blackberry so? Don't worry I'll tell you.


My first blackberry was the 8520 curve. I was so excited when I got it but I wish I'd read some reviews before hand. That's not to say that I have since read some reviews of the phone, because I haven't. I haven't got the time. What I can tell you is that we of  the Afam household have a three year old 8520 in our stores. The phone currently functions as a land line, or a desk top. If you disconnect it from the power source the device has the mobile phone equivalent of a stroke. You're probably thinking that I should replace the phones battery right? But why should I do this when the Nokia E90 communicator that I used to use is still completely functional after 6 years of use?

I was not informed that when I purchased the blackberry curve 8520, I would be buying an uncooperative twit with no respect for my social life. The phone was possessed. It hard reset when it felt like, deleted my blackberry messenger contacts when it had bad days and generally tried to disrupt my life in every manner possible. When a phone displays that the battery is full and then proceeds to die in the next 30 minutes, that phone is taking the Mickey. My 8520 was stolen in Chicken George and I was relieved. I was due for an upgrade so I planned to get the newest blackberry. I thought that the phone would be free of the personality issues that had come with the one before it.

The first flaw of the blackberry bold 9780 is that it looks just like the blackberry bold 9700. What's the point of getting the newest phone if it is exactly the same as the old one? Apple had the good sense to equip the iphone 4s with Siri but blackberry was not as clever. In my opinion they only changed the colour of the casing and downloaded their newest operating system. That operating system was also available to those with the previous bold. The phone worked fairly well, until 6 months after procurement. I was using it during a light drizzle when it hard reset itself and refused to reboot . I took it to the Vodafone store, where it was diagnosed with water damage? Water damage? From a drizzle? If I were to put my phone away every time there was a light drizzle in Manchester then I would never use my phone. I was given a courtesy phone by Vodafone as a replacement. They gave me the 8520. I promptly turned it off and placed it in the box. I had no need for it.

I informed the Vodafone staff that I was returning to Nigeria for three months, so I would be unable to pick up my phone until September. During the holidays, they informed me that my phone was fixed and ready for collection. I ignored this because I had told them where I was going and they could hardly expect me to purchase a thousand pound ticket for the sole purpose of picking up a troublesome phone. I returned to the United Kingdom only to find that they had disconnected the courtesy phone, because my phone was ready to be picked up. Did they not remember that I had left the country?

On the day of my arrival, I marched to the Vodafone store to collect my blackberry that had supposedly been fixed only to find that it had not actually been fixed.

VODAFONE, BUT WHY?

(You can see that Vodafone is highly skilled in the art of corporate spanking).
It gets worse. 

The lady then told me that insurance could no longer take care of the repairs because I did not report their negligence and inefficiency after the phone had been fixed. I was stunned. I could not believe what I was hearing. This would mean that Vodafone had sent my phone off for repairs, received the phone unfixed and left it on their shelves for three months. Does such a thing seem possible. The repairs were not free. I had paid £25 pounds for them. That doesn't include the insurance premium that I pay monthly. I was informed that because I did not pick my phone up 2 weeks after it had been returned it could no longer be repaired by the insurance company. After I had gone through the trouble of telling the staff at the store that I was returning home for the holidays and that because of this I would not be able to pick up my phone immediately.

Had I not argued for several minutes about this, I would have paid for the repairs myself. In all honesty I might as well have paid for the repairs myself. The repairs would have cost £100 at the most. It is always and everywhere infinitely preferable to gain satisfaction from expenditure, than it is to lose satisfaction and a general sense of well being from expenditure. I fail to see how this can pass for customer service? It isn't even bad customer service, it's crazy!

When all was said and done, the phone wasn't repaired. I was given a brand new one phone. After all the stress I had gone through to get it fixed, I didn't want a new phone, I wanted my phone. While all this fixing was going on they added more strokes to the corporate lashing I was receiving by giving me a first generation samsung courtesy phone. They didn't even spring for a 1st generation nokia. I'm sure that I don't need to detail the damage my social life suffered as a result of this.

I find it amusing that I no longer know how to use 1st generation phones properly. Texting with one of them is IMPOSSIBLE!!

The new Blackberry 9780 was not as sturdy as the old one. It was like the reincarnation of my 8520, it did things as it pleased. It could not open web pages of a certain size, but I didn't mind too much after my experience with the samsung, I found great comfort in the qwerty keypad.

Yesterday my blackberry found itself in the Atlantic ocean. Although efforts to rescue it were successful, it remains an invalid in the sack of rice that the Afam household keep in the kitchen. If I know anything about my phone, I know that it shall use this opportunity to enjoy a quiet passage to the after life. So what should I do? After my experiences I will not be handing the phone to vodafone for fixing. I'd rather buy another.  I will not make any promises or overly bold proclamations, but I can assure you that the times they are a-changin'. In the mean time I'll make do with my trusty nokia.

I feel bad that I should have any cause to complain so. I would really prefer it if I never had to complain at all, that I may restrict my efforts to the enjoyment of the Earth and all the things inside it. But now that it's done, I can focus on better, more positive things, like my recent ungraduation from uni and my Lagosian adventures. Onward and Upward!!!

Happy Days
Afam

A very important development has developed. Can I not say that? Well, I don't really care. This important development has put a stop to my hearty Lagosian adventures. I am convinced that there are three things in this world that could never mix, and I believe that several of you know exactly what it is I am on about.

This combination, this cocktail of misfortune, this eternal quagmire is the marriage of Vodafone, RIM, and I, Afam. I'll start this tale from the end. As we speak my £55 Vodafone phone bill is two days overdue. I am fairly sure that my bill should not be £55, because Vodafone owes me money. How did such a thing happen? I'll tell you.

In April or May, while pulling off one of my many all nighters, I heard a faint voice calling in the wind.

Enter Nightly Spirit

Spirit: Afam, Afam.

 I looked around and wondered who it was that whispered to me in such a lovely and appealing voice, that made my mouth water with desire.

Afam: Who's there?

Spirit: Quarter Pounder with cheese, mmm.

Afam: I really shouldn't, I mean I mustn't.

Spirit: Go large with the fries. You know we make the best fries on the high street. Don't forget to try our medley of sauces. I know that we appeal to your infinitely adventurous palate.

Afam: My palate does yearn for the unfamiliar every now and then...

Spirit: That's the beauty of it, we're so familiar but yet so foreign.

Afam: Who are you? Tell me...

By this time there was a rumbling in my stomach going boom bada boom bada boom

Spirit: When last did you get a large Vanilla milkshake from us? You naughty chap. You've been cheating haven't you?

Afam: But they're so good at Archie's, I couldn't resist!

Spirit: Shut up! we've been catering to your every desire since you were six. That should count for something.

Afam: I'm sorry.

Spirit: No matter, there's no time like the present to rectify your negligence.

Afam: Yes, I'll leave right away.

Spirit: Don't forget to get an apple pie and a Mcflurry. Also don't forget to get that cheese burger with your student card.

With that dismissal, I wakeboarded from my seat in the Library. Yes, I did this. Don't doubt me


I was in such a good mood after this conversation with the spirit of McDonalds that I went skipping very gayly down Oxford Road in Manchester with my trusty Blackberry in hand. Before I knew what was happening, I felt myself vault through the air. I landed flat on my face, and my blackberry smashed into the ground with a lethal amount of force. It ceased to work instantly and no amount of coaxing could wake it from the dead. Being a lad who's well aware of the many shits that the universe can take on a human being during the course of a day, I brushed the dirt from my shoulder and continued to McDonalds, where I ordered everything the Spirit told me to. It was a splendid meal, even if it did come at the cost of my phone.

While one cannot belittle the obesity crisis sweeping the world, one can proclaim that McDonalds in moderation is good for the soul.

 After my exams I sauntered up to Vodafone and to claim my insurance. The insurance company duly informed me that I could only make a claim on accidental damage, if it happened within the last seven days. This was obviously a clause that I had neglected to read when they asked for my autograph a year and a half before. I was also informed that it would take £100 to resurrect my blackberry. I bit the bullet and asked for it to be added to my bill at the end of the month.

Two days later I realized that Vodafone had gone above and beyond the call of duty and disconnected me. I went to the shop and they said that they needed me to pay the £100 immediately. I complied. Two days later, my service was suspended yet again. I checked my account online, and it said that I owed £100. I thought, "Gosh, it's so embarrassing that the first payment did not clear"(These things happen sometimes). 

I paid again. I checked my bank statement two days later, only to discover that I had paid Vodafone twice (Rookie Error). As a student who's perpetually broke, this is a deadly error. One that must be rectified with no delay. How could such a thing have happened? They had ruined my finances! I called customer service to complain about the unreasonable development and they asked me to take my private and undoubtedly personal bank statements to the nearest Vodafone shop.  I swallowed down the difficult and extremely bitter pill and strolled into my preferred vodafone shop with my bank statements in tow.

The Vodafone staff then had the audacity to scan and send my very unhealthy, and unbelievably private bank statements to a Vodafone office only God knows where, to do only God knows what with. After a little while they informed me that they had located my money and that they were unable to make an immediate transfer to my bank account. Could they not see that the double debit had pulled me into my unplanned overdraft, the fees of which are £50 pounds. They then insinuated that it was my fault that I was double billed. It was too much to take. I went into shock. I couldn't even complain. Believe it or not, Vodafone still had some more buggery up their sleeve. They deducted my next bill from the money that I had in excess and promised to send me the rest within 10 working days. I left the store without any spring in my step. I was extremely deflated.

Let's fast forward to today. After their horrific treatment I can confirm that my money has still not reached my account. I can also confirm that they have not deducted it from my next bill.

A little over a month has passed since this incident.

Vodafone why have you chosen to punish me so? It must be at the prompting of some universal entity, that you decided to wield your heavy hand of corporate bureaucracy against one incomparably tiny Afam.

Happy Days,
Afam.

I feel that since I used this forum to declare my gainful unemployment, I should use the same medium to declare my ungainful employment. I was very content. People think that lounging about and being a slob is lazy but they can't understand how monumentally difficult it is to stay at home and do nothing all day. Yes, that is one of my many talents. If only I could be employed in an industry that encouraged the development of such talents but no. It was not to be. The end of my blissful period of gainful unemployment was heralded- as most things are, by a conversation with Papa Afam.

Gainful Unemployment: I have used this phrase a few times without explaining what I mean by it. It is not very easily defined. You see I, Afam, am special. Yes, my mother told me so. Because of my unparalleled muchness I collect a salary at the end of the month for performing the activities necessary for life. But the moment I get a paying job, these funds dry up. It's not that they are not available to me but the pockets of Mama and Papa Afam, seem to become incredibly shallow whenever I have a job. It would be harder to extract water from a stone than to get those two to cough up. 

Enter Papa Afam and Afam
 I'm sprawled on the couch. It's 6 am. Don't be ridiculous!! I could never wake up that early. Papa Afam attempts to ignore me as he walks past my couch to make a cup of tea. I dutifully ignore him. Anyone who knows anything, knows that one should not be disturbed when watching a nollywood production. You may miss one of the many theme songs. But Papa Afam had a very large bee in his bonnet that morning so my dreams of nollywood bliss were put on hold. How can you tell the man that bought the television, the cable, the couch and even the floor to be silent while you watch Beyonce vs Rihanna, or Rihanna the President's daughter (I think the latter has about 5 sequels).

Papa Afam: AFAM!!
Afam: Yes dad.
Papa Afam: How long have you been back?
Afam: four days.
Papa Afam: What do you intend to do with yourself?

Afam: Silence. The question was purely rhetorical.

Had I answered the conversation would have gone like this
Afam: I'm relaxing until National Service commences.
Papa Afam: Oh! so you mean you'll just be sitting here idle until November.
Afam: Yes.
Papa Afam: So while your mates are out getting internships and such, you'll be watching television.
Afam: Yes dad. You'll find that watching any Nollywood production is just as tasking as doing any actual work. Your brain works overtime analysing the various reasons why you shouldn't be watching the drivel, but it's useless analysis because it is widely known that Africa Magic impairs the motor functions leaving you unable to look away or change the channel.
Papa Afam: Are you Crazy?

But being infinitely perceptive, clever and forward looking, I keep silent.
Papa Afam: Come to my office at 9, we'll sort you out.
Afam: Yes dad.

I'm not really complaining about the manner in which I got the job. I'm well aware that not everyone has the good fortune to even be considered for a "decent" job in the current economic climate.

So here I am, standing in central Lagos at mid-day (I mean like Lagos, Lagos. The part of Lagos where I who have lived in Lagos all my life am a tourist). I'm a bit like James Bond, I can tell you my name, but I can't tell you who I work for or what it is that I do. All you need to know is that on this day after being hauled to work at 9am I had to take someone somewhere, to get something that would make someone else immensely satisfied.

That is a picture of the sun. It beat down on me with such intensity that I suspected that I may have wronged it somehow. But I, Afam, was prepared for it. After suffering severe sun burn the last time I went wake boarding I make sure to sun screen up at all times. Yes, black people get sun burnt too.

Yes, so there I was standing in the centre of Lagos, the place that the most adventurous tourists head to in the hope of gaining a glimpse into the lives of real lagosians. I was not going to waste the opportunity. So while I waited for someone to bring me the something that I had driven to the centre of Lagos for, I donned my tourist hat.

I take it with me at all times. Whenever I need to don the demeanour of a tourist I put on this hat and my perception of the world changes. The most insignificant observations become objects of bedazzlement. Furthermore my ability to appreciate the smallest things increases 100 fold. The hat also grants me powers of extreme recklessness and bravado. These will be illustrated later.

While walking through something like this, I encountered a number of obstacles.

I had to avoid being run over by Keke na peps (That's slang for a motored tricycle) like this.

And Okadas like this...

But it was all worth it because I got to see this...

I had often wondered why I was so interested in my bowel movements. I thought it odd that I should look forward to them, or somehow seem to insert them into most conversations. This proves that I am not the one at fault. I will use this opportunity to suggest that all Lagosians are more interested than is the norm in activities usually restricted to the toilet. (During a four day expedition I delighted in the opportunity to leave a little bit of myself behind in a medieval hut at the foot of Mount. Snowdon, in Wales.) If you're ever in need of some herbal laxative, tell me and I'll be sure to procure some Ajase Kokoki. It's guaranteed to make things happen. I'm not sure what exactly it'll do to you but I'm sure that it will do something.

Yes, somewhere around there. Things look so much better in pictures. They don't capture the 40 kilometre an hour head wind that sometimes blows through the mountain range. Never Again!!

I also got to see this. I stood in the middle of traffic to get this shot. The people weren't pleased but I had my tourist hat on. I was one spider bite away from being a superhero.

After a successful day out during which I finally obtained the something and gave it to someone who had a great time with the something, I went to my favourite joint at the moment, the Three Arms Hotel in Ikoyi and ordered a chapman.

It was at this juncture that I thought that it was a little weird for me to consider myself a tourist in the city that I have lived for the last 22 years. But, maybe it's a good thing. It just means that there are several more adventures to be had. Life would be dull indeed if I had accomplished everything that there was to be accomplished. I find it reassuring that there are things the even I, Afam don't know. All of this introspection ended when I boss lassoed me back to the office at 7pm, where I remained until 11:30pm.

Happy Days,
Afam.