'09 Year's End

I love New Years. I know, shocked right? But I love New Year's. It's celebrated all around the world. I think the Solomon islands are first to see the new year. I love most of all watching as BBC 24 goes around the world, showing how each country makes the last few seconds special. The fireworks (hanabi) displays, the countdowns, the new year. And with the new year comes New Year's resolutions (made to be broken), new hopes, new aspirations, new dreams, new desires and in some few cases conclusions. Yes, New Year's is one of the best, it's quick, if you blink you'll miss it. It's always exciting.

Happy New Year everyone xx

Side Story: Boxing Day

It was Boxing Day, the day after Christmas Day which makes it the 26th. I woke up around 10 am then spent the next 10 minutes trying to regain consciousness. I have freaky low blood pressure so I tend to have blackouts and sleep a lot (at least that's the excuse I'm using for that one). I trudged down the stairs with my heavy ass Toshiba, soon to be Apple, laptop. My older sister was getting ready for an outing I still haven't asked her about. My other sister and mum were gloating about a successful attempt at the "world famous" Banana cake. I sat down and plugged the energy-sucker (my laptop) in. Apparently, it can't go an hour and a half without charging. I stared as the energy-sucker slowly, very slowly reanimated. Then it hit me, it was so tremendous, so powerful, like a flood washing all over me. The New Year was imminent and I was waiting to go to school not waiting to go to Japan. I had set my life back a year. A year in exile. I felt helpless, like I was gasping for air in that flood. I couldn't breathe. My eyes started to well up, and I felt embarrassed most of all. I didn't want to show that emotion to the rest of my family. I didn't want anyone to see me like that.

I'm used to sorting those things out on my own. And that's exactly what I did. I locked myself in my room, cried a bit but slept mostly for the rest of the day.

I'm a bit better now. It's the 27th. I think I'll be okay, eventually.

This Christmas: Day

Trading Places circa 1983, to the left Louis Winthorpe III. Masterfully played by Dan Aykroyd, the ultimate privileged, yuppie idiot who gets turned on by his "own kind".

The film doesn't have that much to do with this post, I just think it's a classic. I'm always filled with disgust and the wonder and then disgust again when I watch this scene. Wonder because I'm surprised that anyone would wear such a filthy Santa suit. Disgust because that's salmon that he's eating, eww. Personally, I'm not that into Christmas. I think it's kinda boring.

We don't behave any differently than we would any other time of year, no, that's wrong; my family irritate me more than they would any other time of the year, lol. The day's schedule is as follows: wake up (at some point), dress up (most of them don't want to), drink some cocktails, eat some Walker's Sensations and eventually have the Christmas meal including the dessert. I could do that any other day of the year with less fuss and get a nap in between.

The most annoying thing about Christmas for me is the insistence that I wait till Christmas Day to open my present. I'm 2 months shy of my 21st B-day, do I really have to wait to open my presents, apparently yes. Why? I suspect my family gets some sort of sadistic joy from making me wait.

The Christmas tree's a whole other kettle of fish. Every year I have to get it out, I have to decorate it and I have to pack it back up around New Year. It's even more irritating because I'm not the one who insists on putting it up. It's definitely not for the children's benefit because I'm the youngest in the house and I outgrew Christmas like 10 years ago. Bah Humbug. The icing on the cake is that this year my mother had to buy a new one because the black whole known as her bedroom swallowed up our beloved 15 year old Christmas tree. We've searched high and low but it's nowhere to be found. Can you believe it a whole Christmas tree has disappeared from my small English terraced house.

For those who love it, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year xXx ^_^ and if you haven't watched Trading Places you should. It's a great film.

This Christmas: Eve

This meal is important to me, not because it's Christmas Eve but because I haven't had it in a while. A Ghanaian classic of Waatse (pronounced Waatche), which is similar to the West Indian Rice and Peas, but we use black eyed beans instead. In Ghana it's eaten mid-morning because no one wants to be farting late into the night, lol. It's an unusual breakfast item but that's what happens when you live in a hot country. There's always and excess of chilli and salt, just the way I like it.

I remember my older sister used to buy it for breakfast when we lived in Ghana. It came packaged in a Banana leaf with extra Shito (not sure if I spelt that correctly ;0), because she loved the stuff. To her Shito is like Ketchup, lol.

Shito is made out of prawns generally, but Sprats today because that's what my mother could get her hands on. Any seafood would do basically. dried chilli peppers, oil (lots), onions, some salt or a Magi cube (I think it's made out of prawns compressed into a small concentrated bar). It is stewed until it turns black et voila, you have Shito, it's a peppery hot condiment. I can't eat too much of it personally, because I'm a light weight when it comes to peppery hot stuff. I'd rather have chilli in my food than not though. I always find myself nauseous when its not there.

My mum also fried some Sprats (those tiny fish that you can eat whole) and prawns. Apparently, in Ghana they eat shell and all. My memories of the motherland aren't as clear as the used to be. It has something to do with the benefits of the calcium… OK, that’s a lie. But it could be true.

Along with that you get some tomato sauce, and Gari which is Cassava I think. It's shredded then dry fried, I think my mum mixed it with some of the oil from the Shito. The thing about Gari is that it's rock hard, so whatever your going to eat it with you need to dampen it a bit. All that's left is the egg, which I don't quite understand the reason for, but who cares. It's delicious. Well, that was my Christmas Eve feast.

P.S. I hate Blogger's picture uploading system.

New Moon and Roger Federer!!!

So I went to the O2 arena, formerly the disaster known as the Millennium dome, with my friend Steph. I dragged her along, willingly, to watch the second installment of the Twilight Saga: New Moon at the Vue cinema. I like to watch a new film the week after its release, and preferably on a weekday if it's a child friendly film (they tend to ruin it for me).

The film was OK. I mean Robert Pattinson was great as Edward, it was like reading the book. Taylor Lautner was better than I thought he'd be, but I worry about his longevity in the movie business. He seems pretty one dimensional to me, that's okay for life in general but not for Hollywood. Personally I like Kristen Stewart, I'm not one of the stupid, hormone-ridden fans who hate her purely because she gets to play Edward's love interest and may be the real life love interest of Robert Pattinson. Most of these kids won't or can't make the distinction between the character and the actor. I appreciate her because I hardly know anything about her. That's the type of relationship I want with, specifically, the up 'n' coming celebrities. The problem is I don't think she plays Bella effectively, she just doesn't do sad that well. She does awkward, teen angst great but that's about it.

We were discussing the film as we left the cinema, when Steph dealt me a huge blow by telling me that she would've picked Jacob. After the initial nausea I thought, who am I to try to convert or judge her icky tastes. I won't hold it against her... much. We decided to explore the O2, the great thing about that place is that you never have to worry about getting lost. It's a circle so you always end up where you started.

The O2 was also hosting the ATP Master's end of year tournament with the world's top 8 players. They battle it out through 2 rounds: first is the Round Robin; were the play against every member of that group, the two best out of the group proceed to the next stage. Second is the Knock-out stage; they play to the death (not really), they play the best of 3 sets, only if you lose this time you're out for good. We stumbled upon a tennis court and we (I) decided to hang around for a bit. First I saw Roger Federer's father, then his mother. I knew they wouldn't be out there for any old reason, so we lingered around a bit longer. Steph was getting restless but around 3 o'clock he finally came out. It was great, it made my day. I wish he'd been practising with Rafael Nadal. That would've made my year.

Neighbours from Hell... or in that direction

So yesterday the neighbours decided to make themselves known. My relationship with the neighbours is a lot like my relationship with the strangers I encounter on the London underground; they're invisible. I mind my own business and they mind theirs. These neighbours are African but I'm not sure which part they're from; I know that they're not Ghanaian but that's all I know.

I don't know what type of music the were playing, nor do I particularly care, but when I could hear it in my bedroom that's when I got irritated. At 6pm, or there abouts, they started with that crappy music. Normally I wouldn't be dismissive of other people's varying tastes in music, but these pricks just pissed me off. A couple of hours later when the music got louder my oldest sister and I decided to ask them to keep it down. When the neighbour opened the door he told us that they were having a baby shower or some shit like that. Who has a baby shower with obscenely loud, crappy music. It was bloody cold in England that night so we quickly retreated to our house and waited 10 mins. No change. I walked 7 whole feet, in the bloody cold, to they're door for nothing. That was it. I got on the phone to the police who redirect me to the noise division of my local council, meanwhile my sisters went back to knock and ask the neighbour for the SECOND time to take it down a notch. No Change.

I got a hold of the council, which did me absolutely no good. The noise division arrived around 11pm only to tell us that they'll send a letter to the neighbours. A letter, that's it, what a waste of time. So my Saturday night was filled with mostly expletives aimed at the neighbours.

What will I do? Well, they rent so as soon as my mother locates the landlady's phone number I'm going to let her have a piece of my mind. My anger has been redirected at her because in the past 2 years that she's owned that house every single one of her tenants (and there have been at least 6 different ones) have been either illegal, dirty or both. She's either lazy or stupid, I'm going to find out. My mother suggested that I should go along the lines of "...I want to be a good neighbour..." blah, blah. No. That's not going to happen, I prefer to subtly threaten her with informing the council about the type of tenants she places in the house. But, with the amount of time my mother is taking to find the phone number, (I suspect deliberately) I'm running out of steam. Bah Humbug!!!