The Week That Was

London's National Gallery

Well, I guess I can give a recap of the week that has been here in London, in my world.

With it being a bank holiday weekend here last weekend, there were a lot of things happening in London - as usual. Though I am still officially a student, without formal classes to attend, every weekend is like a bank holiday weekend for me, but I digress. I decided beforehand that I would go to the Busspepper Eighth Anniversary Party on Sunday, where the week began. Usually a good lime, this one was disastrous. The venue was in my opinion a poor choice for such an event and there were just way too many people crammed into a small space, making it too hot, too stifling. I did not enjoy it as much as I had hoped, but then I was also distracted by news from home.

When I opened my eyes on Monday afternoon, there was a full-on barbecue in the backyard, with people and everything. Too tired and annoyed to participate, I did some research for my dissertation and spent the rest of the evening, night and next morning (no sleep inserted here) doing letters/emails to prospective respondents and making appointments. I managed to get 4 quick confirmations but the water seems to have run dry and I am following up on the laggards today. I just want to reiterate that this dissertation is the nightmare of my life!

On Wednesday I managed to scrape myself off the bed and go to campus for a workshop on...you guessed it...dissertation research. Fun.

Thursday was much more pleasant as I decided to enjoy the brilliant sunshine and venture into parts unknown, namely Hammersmith. Beautiful area. Very green and vibrant, yet not claustrophobic. There was a lovely market on as well and even better, a burrito giveaway at the new location of Tortilla. I had never heard of the chain but I saw about 50 or so people in a queue and I asked what was going on. Well, needless to say - student +no money + free lunch = me standing in line, talking to a lovely Aussie lady about vacations, while waiting to get to the counter to order my unexpected lunch.

I  had some school-related tasks to complete (snore) but once they were done, I then ventured back to Trafalgar Square, where I sat in the sun with tourists, had my free burrito and gaped for a while before spending the next few hours in National Gallery - fave place ever! I took a walk back down Waterloo Bridge where I was so sorry I had left my camera at home, cause the view off the bridge on a clear sunny day is breath-taking. When it's sunny in London, it's beautiful - just beautiful.

Beckenham Park,
Photo credit: Wells Consultants

On Friday, I journeyed to Beckenham this time - another area I had never been to and beautiful beautiful beautiful. Very posh, but very green and woody. My "date" gave me a great director's cut version of the Beckenham tour before we settled in for drinks and dinner. It was such a nice evening that I lost track of time and ended up having to face my worst nightmare - the dreaded night bus - to get home.

Saturday afternoon, I met up with my girlfriend, Nic, for lunch and drinks (and gaping) at Las Iguanas, followed by more drinks at Be@1 - where as usual, the oddballs of London seem to turn up. Again, no camera, but I shared a drink with Woody Woodpecker, Bugs Bunny, a female cow, a dragon, a fairy, a pink bride and a ghoul. I kid you not. Drinking in London is unlike anything I have ever experienced. lol.
Sunday, I was exhausted really but still managed to go to Blackheath for lunch at Locale, where I had the best scallops and a wonderful main course of gnocchi with king prawns. The weather by now was back to normal, i.e. rainy, but the company was great and the food was better - not to mention the 3 glasses of pinot grigio. At the table next to us was a party which included two Guyanese women, so of course I had to strike up a conversation cause that is how I am - farse and chatty.

Rafael Nadal ended a great week with some scintillating tennis, which I watched over another glass of wine, and here I am - back with the research and stress. It's really dreary today and I am so tired (I could barely type this as you can tell) so I think the rest of today will be spent in bed with the disso...hopefully with the disso.

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Letting Go

I was really touched by the strength and faith of my friend this past week. It has not been an easy one for her, and there were the days when she, like anyone else would, felt her strength failing. To lose someone so close to you in such a manner is debilitating and would be for anyone. Yet, when I spoke to her and to the other girls, I recognised that she had a strength and a fabulousness that perhaps we had taken for granted.
To read the article in the Guardian today - a report on the funeral - and the family's call for peace, not vengeance, and their ability to forgive, is so powerful. How many times have you been wronged by someone - a boss, a friend, a boyfriend - and held on to that resentment, watering it with time? Thinking on how things so small can become such powerful vessels of hate and negativity, and comparing it to something like this, which far outweighs any devious act by a supervisor or a cheating boyfriend, makes one wonder, why couldn't I let it go?

As I have gotten older, I have learnt to let things go. Whether I would be willing to let something like this go is something I never want to have tested. But my belief is God will judge. My belief is justice takes place in its own time, one way or another. Resentment is a tie that binds you forever to that person. You are more likely to be joined to the hip emotionally and spiritually to your accused when you keep resentment alive. Freedom comes from letting go. Still, it cannot be easy and now the healing begins.

I am grateful to have such awesome people in my life

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Gone way too soon

Trichelle Campbell-Dean, 28yrs old. RIP.

Sitting in London at 5 minutes to 1 in the morning. At 15 minutes to 12, I got the call from my mother that Trichelle had been found. It was not the call I wanted to get. Not the news you want to hear. It is a nightmare. Sleep is now impossible.

What can you do for a friend who has lost her sister and her best friend? For a family who nurtured a daughter and a sister for 28 years, only to have her life cut short violently and by someone she loved and trusted? For two little babies - ages 2 and 1 - who will grow up not knowing their mother, and are too young to remember her? What can you do sitting from a bedroom on the other side of the Atlantic when your best friend is hurting, knowing your tears cannot begin to compare with the tears being released from wounded hearts in that home tonight?

The senselessness is outweighed by the callousness of a person who sat back all week, feigning concern, but always knowing that he had cut her life short since the beginning. Five days of agony for her parents, her sister, her brothers, and all who loved her - when you knew that you had placed her body in a shallow grave even before she was reported missing.  My heart is heavy with the grief that such a beautiful person has been taken away from her loved ones at such a young age. But I am also damn vex that a lack of control, care, thought, consideration and conscience brought about a tragedy that could have been prevented simply by walking away. Angry that a coward has ripped the heart out of a tightly knit family - why? What was the motive? How did he sleep at night over the last 5 days knowing so many people were praying she was safe and alive? I am so angry.

Senseless. But in the midst of the senselessness and the millions of questions, still remains the aftermath - a family in tears tonight, and a beautiful life stolen. It is so incredibly sad and I cannot even begin to imagine what this family endures tonight - a father having to identify the decomposing corpse in a shallow grave as his angel. Nah. Senseless.

Hold your loved ones close and never take a moment of life for granted. My love and prayers to the family. They need our love and prayers tonight and beyond.

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How prayer saved my day and what you can do to save Trichelle

I have some girls who form the core of personal support and love in my life and for whom I would do anything, and vice versa. Beautiful, strong women who have been in my life for years and years. Earlier this week, I received the horrible news that my friend's sister is missing. It surely has to be every person's worst nightmare - to turn around and not know where your loved one is and whether they are safe, scared or alone.

It has been weighing heavily on my mind and being away from home makes one feel a bit hopeless but then we all feel that way. So while the police carry out their investigations, we wait. All any of us can do now is sit, wait, and pray for her safe return and pray for her family, who undoubtedly need all the support they can get at this time. This could be any one of us, sadly so no thought, no prayer is too small. Thanks to everyone who circulated the photos to friends and lifted the family up in prayer. Hoping for good news soon.

This being said, I have not been the sharpest tack in the drawer this week, and it took me all week to scramble some words together on a page to send to my dissertation supervisor. Not my best work but when I finally sent it off today, I decided that I also needed to eat, having not eaten a proper meal in days. So I did the whole nine yards with the cooking, rustling up a fantastic curry to go with my contraband dhalpuri roti (luckily UK Customs did not feel the need to seize this as they did my NZ cheddar). Hungry and tired, I doled out a serving of this Trini culinary goodness, set it on the table, cleaned up and then went out to put out the trash - a 15 second exercise. In less than 10 seconds, the sound no pyjama clad, fluffy socks and fluffy slippers wearing, bad hair day woman wants to hear, echoed in my ear sockets - the sound of a slamming door, automatically locking me out, while the keys jangled in the lock and mocked me from the inside. F#@^ me!

Luckily for me, two things were in my favour - 1. the neighbours were home and while #2 was the main reason I was in this predicament, with the wind from this source being the reason the door slammed behind me, still, 2. the back door was open.

This is where I put my acrobatic skills to work and for those who know what my university hall name was, this would be funny. The neighbour got out his old rickety ladder, and leaned it against the fence so I could climb up and clamber over. If you know anything about British fences, and guttering, you would know that they are basically shit. If you know anything about me, you would know that I am a true Caribbean woman with an ass and meat on the bones. To say this exercise of climbing over this fence which could barely take the weight of a Barbie doll, and praying I did not break down the entire thing was a challenge, would be an understatement. I looked for something on which to hold on to, and the guttering was as fragile as the fence so I had to hold on to the neighbour, and pray for dear life. I whispered a prayer asking first for personal safety - I did not want to have to tell my mother over Skype that I had broken anything, and also I prayed for the fence cause I am not in a financial position to help pay to repair a broken fence.

Well, I am here typing this, and the fence still stands and the curry was excellent. It just goes to show that prayer is great. Faith is powerful, no matter what the challenge - no matter how big or small, trite or life changing.

My friend's family is going through a situation I wish on noone. Please say a prayer for Trichelle and let's bring her home.

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Day Tripping to Rye and Hastings

A warm gingerbread man cookie
in Rye to warm the blood

I am not sure what is going on with English weather but when I opened my eyes yesterday at 5.35am, it felt like the jaws of winter were hovering over my warm Caribbean body. Despite putting on a couple layers last night, I was freezing. It was no surprise that when I got home last night, the heater was on. This after a day out, where despite the ball of light in the blue sky, surrounded by fluffy white clouds, it was cold and terribly windy. Between the biting cold winds eating into my brown chocolatey warmth and whipping my hair into a mad "hot mess" frenzy, it was not fun being outdoors.

Except in some sick, twisted way, it was fun. I took a bit of a day trip out of London, as part of my "Get out of London" tour on a budget, and headed to a town called Rye in East Sussex, followed by a quick stop in Hastings.

Rye was pretty cool. Very English. Loved the cobblestoned streets and the buildings which were steeped in history. Loved the intimacy of the town and the storybook perfection. Very white bread. At first I thought I surely was one of the few young people in the town. Then upon closer inspection, I realised I was the only black person in the place. After an entire morning, and part of the afternoon, and despite my eyes being peeled for blackness, I was still the only visible black person in good ole Rye. lol. Still, Rye had its moments.

Lovely old bar and lodge in Rye, East Sussex

Ypres Tower from its grounds

The most memorable Rye moment was lunch. So we stopped in at a local pub where the menu seemed above average for pub fare and from the outside the place looked decent. I am not a fan of pub food, but I had already made travel buddy switch eating places a couple times - picky and fussy eater I am - so when we opened the door and I saw the interior of this place, I was loathe to ask to move a third time for fear of being labelled picky and fussy. But the first thing that greeted me was the cute, albeit four legged creature, outstretched on a couch in the pub. Now while I love dogs, I don't want them in the place where I am about to eat food. The mere presence of Lassie or whatever her name was, was enough to send me in a panic. lol. But I rallied. The place was pretty run down and that did not endear me to stay either but again...PICKY...FUSSY...flashing through my mind.

The food got there and it looked like mess - the accompanying sauce for my meat bathed everything else on the plate and it was a virtual swimming pool on a plate. But the crowning moment of it all was after my third bite of the drowned pork, I noticed a long, straight strand of hair sitting very impolitely on my meat. Fork down, knife down, appetite lost.

The management were nice enough to refund us our money for my meal after I decided I did not need to venture into trying a replacement dish. I saw the dog trot off behind the waiter, probably about to sink her teeth into some hairy pork loin. Good for her.

Hastings was fun - also cold and windy though. We made a trip up the hill via a funicular railway which gave us fantastic views of the seaside town.

The view of the hill from the base of the funicular railway in Hastings

The view of the seaside town of Hastings from the top of the hill

It was here I had a lovely Italian lunch, minus dogs and minus human hair, and a lovely chocolate gelato sundae for dessert. It was great to escape London and fingers crossed, I can get some work done today on my dissertation which is a nightmare on so many levels.

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