Now back to everyday. One or two resolutions that I hope that I don’t break and that is to do The Artist’s Way without stopping or ‘breaking’. I started this book before and just got up to week 5 and then I stopped! Can’t remember why but I never got back to it again. Now I’ve restarted (just completed Week One), I try to make myself be more conscious of what I have to do. There are some principles that the author (Julia Cameron) wants you to follow, so I have to do that. Let see how it goes.

The second resolution is to lose weight. Gosh, how many times have I promised myself this?? I’ve lost count. But I just hate how my body shape seems to have settled down and refusing to accept change, aided and abetted by myself of course! But I will try my hardest to lose this weight.

2011 was a tense ridden year for me; from problems that involve loved ones to problems with the State. But as my Pastor constantly tells me: The Almighty Father never gives us challenges that we cannot overcome. I guess there must some truth in that as I’m still here!

I hope and pray for a more positive time, to be more forgiving and understanding to others and for peace to be given more of a chance.

Happy New Year Everyone!

Duchess of Cambridge

Bullying for me was either being physically pushed around, ignored, called names and all the time trying very hard not to end up in tears. In those days you couldn’t complain to your parents (they just told me to get on with it), and you certainly didn’t have Esther Rantzen’s helpline to call and the teachers simply got fed up of punishing the bullies. I had a few friends but their loyalty was inconsistent because they felt it safer to stay on the side of the bullies.

I wasn’t aware of it but I was told that I had an ‘air’ about me and took a studious approach to school work that the other girls didn’t understand and did not like. The irony about this is that some of those girls were cleverer than me and most times performed better than me in exams, but they didn’t appreciate what they had and could not appreciate that I had to work to be ‘intelligent’. It did not help that I was attractive to the guys and the most attractive of them wanted to date me. It also didn’t help that I had parents who made sure my eye was always on that ball. My parents were oblivious to comments like they were behaving above their station or they were being ‘too ambitious’ as they were simply unconcerned about what other people thought. They pushed me like crazy to do the piano lessons, violin lessons, tap and ballet lessons, saxophone lessons to pass the entrance exam to a college of music and years later to get into University. When everyone was going to disco’s, having illicit relationships with boys and a quick fag in the toilets, I was at home seething with anger as my parents insisted that I should get on and continue either playing those scales or learning my Shakespeare! The number of medals, certificates and performing on stage (and being mentioned in the local paper) did not endear me to these girls, it just further alienated me from them and as a result, life was a constant misery without anyone having any idea that it was happening.

I married some years ago and my partner has become a successful banker. We have managed to live in seven cities, two countries, and at the same time have an interesting lifestyle. No doubt. But as for those who gave me hell, when I go back to my parents home I see them, or they see me and quickly cross over the road. I also see they’ve been burdened with having to look after a family from a young age or a few of them have gotten into lifestyles that can only make me take my breath away. I try not to give this too much thought otherwise I feel guilty of smugness.

I was determined that once I had kids and because I would hate for them to experience what I went through, my husband and I decided that our daughter would go to a boarding school and obviously it is a big welcome that there are now such things as anti-bullying policies and an awareness of how young people feel . Well before the story emerged about Kate Middleton’s time at Downe House, I selected this school and a few others as possible potentials. A beautiful school, a friendly Head, posh but serious-minded and intelligent girls. As to whether it was possible to detect that any bullying went on, it was difficult to say as the girls looked really happy. But we selected another school instead and so far, our daughter seems to be enjoying herself, as well as working hard!

From following all these media stories about Kate Middleton, I take it that it is more the media speculating as opposed to knowing what actually happened to Kate. We do not know what she experienced at Downe House but I do feel that whatever her experiences, she has been forced her to develop a thick skin: not really caring what people say or think. Kate speaks for all us who have played the role of Cinderella surrounded by so many ugly jealous sisters where we have emerged to marry our ‘prince’. May sound cheesy but I say well done to her and well done to the rest of us.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-1375160/Kate-Middleton-tormentors-asks-Petronella-Wyatt.html

Pigeon English is about a young boy who arrives from Ghana settles in an estate that could be Broadwater Farm; a story which features black Brit-on-black African crime, a story that makes you think about the murder of Damilola Taylor, a story which makes you think what it is to be young and black in modern day London. A story about parents/adults who are not engaged with the kids.

I guess my usual moan is what would a white middle aged man know about black youth?  Okay, so the author grew up in a council estate but does that mean he has understanding of what it is like to be black/Ghanaian?  It almost seems as if there is an idiot’s guide to black people that is available somewhere that writers of a different race and colour can imagine and write what they think it must be like to be black! I wonder if I could get away with as much.

But my really biggest moan is the ending. How dare Kelman conclude the story in such a way which suggests that for the black/ethnic youth there is no hope? The actions of the looters in the recent riots in England, already tell us that a lot of the youth are not engaged in their environments so I don’t think it helps to have literature that affirms that. Instead, the book could show how overcoming ‘adversity builds character,and character in turn builds hope’.  I just wonder if a young person from a certain background were supposed to read this book, if they wouldn’t find it despondent, because I certainly did.

As I joined the queue and waited to withdraw the cash, I overheard an elderly woman standing across the road at the junction where Mount Pleasant Road meets The Avenue waiting for the W4 bus. She said she had waited for more than thirty minutes for a bus, and now she was sure it wasn’t coming because of the funeral…

Was today the funeral I asked myself.  As soon as I withdrew the cash, I asked a passerby if the funeral was taking place today.  He said yes, then checked his watch and added that around 11.00am the cortege would pass through The Avenue then onto the High road. Instead of turning to go back to the house, I walked toward the burger and kebab shop and noticed people waiting outside the corner shop on the opposite side; I turned left into the avenue and my attention was focused on the young dread who shouted out at a group of photographers, asking to show ‘respec’.  As I got closer to them, they were chatting and smiling, totally disconnected to the surroundings but they stopped, placed their equipment into their vehicles and left. I continued walking to Broadwater Farm.  It was ominously quiet except for some people dressed in black heading perhaps to Duggan’s family home.  More cars were moving up and down the street, the drivers stopping for half a second chat with each other and then were on their way.

After a while I left.  I had to finish packing my suitcase for my journey to Nigeria. Whilst I was in London, a bomb went off in the UN building in Abuja killing 23 people and injuring many other. The Nigerian Islamist group Boko Haram claimed responsibility.  Prior to leaving Nigeria in July, the police headquarters also in Abuja was hit by a bomb. Both buildings are not too far away from my office.  As one Nigerian woman joked which will it be, Boko Haram or the riots in England.  Is there anywhere, in the world, that is safe?

I went down the High Road towards Bruce Grove and was amazed that  everyone I walked pass were either on their mobiles discussing the latest or talking to someone about all that has happened.  The police appeared positive and were keen to be of assistance.  But the saddest part of my journey is arriving to the site where Allied Carpets used to be and only to be met with a wooden board surrounding the desolate area, and the heads of cranes and JCB’s removing whatever was left of the building.

I’ve been asked by bloggers if the road looks like a ‘war zone’ well, it cannot totally look like a war zone because there are other buildings standing along the derelict ones, and they are intact.  But the ruined buildings fuels my imagination of what it must have been like when London was attacked during the Second World War or if a movie was being made, (again set during the Second World War), the work the production crew would have to put in place to make sure the set looks realistic (what comes to my mind is the Roman Polanski film ‘The Pianist’ – the set and the film looked realistic).

However, seeing these buildings and quickly realizing that people lived in these buildings reminds me of how devastating the whole thing is.  The other positive thing is the when I was in the Leisure Centre, I asked a member of the Salvation Army if they needed anything as I had some items that needed removing. I was told that they been inundated with all sorts of items but they didn’t need anything more; and that the response was totally fantastic. The people who lost their homes were overwhelmed and the council had quickly found them homes.   A somewhat good ending.

"I love Tottenham!'

The crew was sitting at the back of their huge van, and extended from the top of it was a huge massive aerial.  After talking with the librarian, I collected the books and left.  I decided to walk into the High Road to see what was happening. Yes, at this point, I was curious.  There was tape along the road, directing pedestrians off the High road to the back roads which run along with the car parks.  It was interesting to see a number of people around and the police interacting with the public. My ‘walk’took me to the far end of Bruce Grove. There was absolutely no where I could access the High Road as it had been sealed off by tape. Eventually, I came out onto the road, and saw part of the 1930s (Carpet showroom) building which had been there well before I was born.  Such a shame that the building should be seen as ‘iconic’ now that it has died a death.  I read somewhere in one of the papers that how buildings are important to a community; especially if it has history, it should be revered and respected. Now that it has gone, whichever architect is hired, this  building cannot  be replaced .

I cross over the High Road to Pembury Road, and there are groups of people, just sitting, talking.  And each group I pass, there seems to be nothing else to discuss other than the riots.  There is a car, totally burnt.  People stop, remove their camera phones and take photos.  Yet another TV crew are at the end of the road, arguing between themselves about where they should go.  I wonder if I should volunteer and talk to them but I say no, as the area has a bad rep as it is.  I don’t want to say something that becomes misconstrued and distorted; something that I might have to give lengthy explanations to people.

We Love Tottenham!!

I went out to do some shopping. Normally on a Tuesday I’d go to Dewhurst the butchers in Bruce Grove to buy my lamb chops and oxtail but I was reminded by my neighbour that Dewhurst was completely ‘down’. I tell myself that I’ll go instead to Tesco’s but quickly change my mind as I remember that a book I’d reserved in Wood Green Central library is ready for collection so I head there.  When I get to Wood Green, boarded windows are everywhere. Business is still as usual, the road is busy and so is the traffic.  I park, rush to the library to get my book then head back to the car.  I spot the community leader Stafford Scott along Dongola Road.  Didn’t I just read an article written by him in today’s Guardian?  I decide to drive to the top of Phillip Lane where it meets Tottenham High Road. I can see the high road is still cordoned off; the street is littered with police vehicles and yellow tape and there are smattering of ‘officials’ walking around.  In the distance, I can see objects in the road but cannot make out what they are. Turning into Monument Way I see the white building that was in the back ground when David Lammy gave his earnest speech. I drive pass Tottenham Hale and the Retail Park. The Costacoffee shop has wooden planks in its shop windows.  The road is desolate with just a few cars in front of me.  The time is 1.00pm.

When I get home, my partner and I decide to go to Croydon. Not because we want to ogle but we had decided some days ago that we would go and see a few estate agents to check on properties.  We get into the car, drive to Seven Sisters Underground and then park the car in the car park.  We go to the kiosk to buy our tickets and ask if Croydon station is open. We are told it is.  Just as we are about to go down the escalator, we see and greet the community leader – Rev. Nim Obunge who we have seen and heard on the TV.  In fact it is not just us but a number of people rush to him and shake his hand.

We get to East Croydon quite quickly.  Once we arrive, we decide not to stay in the city centre but to take the 466 to Purley.  In the five-minute journey, I am shocked and surprised at the number of smashed shop fronts and the number shops closed for the day.  I guess who can blame them.  We find a few agents and look at what they have on offer and they collect our details.  Did we want something to eat?  We say no and decide that I should cook when we get home.  On our return journey, as the train pass Clapham Junction we notice a crowd around a set of traffic lights which I take to be on the High street.

We wonder what is happening. The journey to Seven Sisters underground is swift; we get off and make our way to the car park.  Shops are boarded, traffic as busy as ever and it is a hot evening.  We walk to where we had parked our car and drive to the nearby Tesco’s to do some shopping and the ‘chatter’ that is over heard as you walk pass people is about the riots – from opinions about the speech of David Lammy to ‘not enough Police’.  If people were not talking then they were either texting or reading their messages on their mobiles.  And I have to add they were of different age groups.  As I said before in my other ‘Tottenham’ blog, I’m just about speechless to all what is happening.  This is taking us back to another 25 years!!

Just to add, later on I found out that the butchers in Tottenham High Road, Dewhurst’s, are alive and well. Thank God!

Bought carpet from this store years ago! And a listed building too!

The looting and criminal acts were horrific and to a certain extent quite frightening.  I hate that the area has been cordoned off; a listed building is now in ruins (alongside
other buildings) and that hard working people have lost their homes and businesses.  Tottenham has somehow been able to get away with not becoming gentrified and hang on to its individuality but there is no question that it is a desperate place and you walk around hoping to see something different, something new but that hardly happens.

One of the regular buses on fire!

Although it did happen with the Tottenham Retail Park (that is just about a year old!)but now the majority of the businesses are ruins.  But given all that has happened- presently and back in 1985 – I am not ashamed of coming from the area, it certainly was a safe haven for my parents when they came here in the late 50s.  Opportunists
and thugs are just taking advantage we are told; there is nothing happening in their boring lives so they do this they also say.  Maybe there is a grain of truth in these comments, but surely the recession and ‘mad’ unemployment are some of the factors needed to be looked at as possible contributory reasons.

A place that was here well before I was born!

In general, Tottenhamites are friendly people and hate, as much as anyone, what is happening to their area and community.  A final point, the day after the riot, I went
out as usual to buy the Sunday Times but was told by three newsagents that there was no delivery of these papers and that we would have to go outside the area to buy as they refused to come to the area.  Yesterday, Monday, I went out to buy the Guardian, again, the same problem.  I just hope that we are not going to see anymore of this.

I’m afraid being well spoken does work especially if you are someone of immigrant parentage. It has helped me to get into Uni (as well as having the qualifications), definitely helped me to get jobs (and to work in Harrods) and when I spent some time in the States, the Americans were overwhelmed with the way I spoke; when I lived in South Africa, again the same thing; when I moved to Manchester and then eventually Glasgow, locals would say I spoke well and wished they could speak like me.

For some reason, speaking ‘well’ milks down what the ‘viewer’ sees before them and helps put aside the fact that you are not quite one of them and makes them believe, even if it’s temporary, that you are.

As Cheryl has found out, in this day and age, it’s not enough just to look good, your delivery must be faultless (check the Finance Minister of France Madame Christine Lagarde and Michelle Obama) and of course, you must be able to do something.  As I read somewhere, just after the incident occurred, that America and the rest of the World, expect if and when they arrive in the UK for the first time in England for everyone to speak as if they are a character from the movie Gosford Park or The Queen etc. anything else is not acceptable.

]]> http://plaintain1.wordpress.com/2011/06/20/yall-alright-chuck-cheryl-cole-speech-fiasco/feed/ 0 plaintain1 http://plaintain1.wordpress.com/2011/03/06/review-the-help-by-kathryn-stockett/ http://plaintain1.wordpress.com/2011/03/06/review-the-help-by-kathryn-stockett/#comments Sun, 06 Mar 2011 19:29:59 +0000 plaintain1 http://plaintain1.wordpress.com/?p=240 ]]> What did I think? It was well written, interesting characters and a great setting. But I have to admit, I am slightly jealous.   Here I am, trying to put a story together.  I’m always trying to put a story together. Once that’s done then I send it off to the publishers which is followed by some rejections.  Nothing to do with the writing they say, but what seems to bug them is I have created scenarios where one of the black characters do not like the white characters.  If there is one thing you cannot have is black characters hating white characters.  The readership would never accept it! Mmn!  I am confused as it is not to say that my black characters are not properly punished if they are bad, or, some of my black characters don’t have white ‘friends’.  In the same way Stockett has written, I am also interested in the underlying conflict which we know exists between people – whether it is people of the same race or people of different races or people of the same class or different.  The film ‘Crash’ is a perfect example of what I am trying to explain.

And then I come across The Help and the character Minny who is sayin’ it jus like it is’.  I have to ask myself, when black writers will be able to have their stories published without the having conditions attached? The Help was a fascinating read but I just wished it was ‘us’ who are allowed to tell such a story.

The photo from the site – A Critical Review of The Help