My Christmas Holiday

 Yes, I'm writing you an essay as if I'm still in primary school because this holiday was worth writing about. I was hoping to get a week off work but between December Decembering, rheumatoid arthritis, and procrastination, I did not finish my assigned work (and not all of it) until the 24th morning. 

Let's see there was a lot of swimming done.

                                                                 Christmas Caroling

Birthday Lunches

got a new tattoo

got a dog.

As you can see, I was super busy.

So anyway, on the 24th, we set out for Weathercock House in Limuru. Yes, just as the name suggests, it was a colonial throwback to the glory days of the empire. 

We arrived quite late what with rushing to finish work, the mechanic taking his time making the car roadworthy, and shopping for supplies. When we got there, the house was on top of a hill and the car kinda refused to climb it. 

Stress.

However, Timothy, the owner of Weathercock house offered to drive the car up the hill and proceeded to do some four-wheel drive shit on my poor not four-wheel drive car. The sun was just setting over the property and it bathed the garden in beautiful golden light. And what a garden it was. It's the reason I'm writing this essay.

We hadn't eaten a thing all day and were hoping to get a meal at some nearby restaurant but Timothy was like kill that story. Danger! Thieves! Also, there was no Uber, or Bolt, nothing operating in Limuru. Timothy was leaving so he wouldn't be available to drive our car back up the hill if we used that. 

Sadness ensued.

But we had with us, some frozen chips and chicken pieces as well as salad. We had wine, we had ice cream, we had chocolate chip cookies. We made do. Happily, we'd hired a chef for the next day so that was taken care of. 

An actual fire in a fireplace. A 72-inch tv. and creepy ass pictures on the wall. Weathercock House was like a journey into my own past. I grew up in a neighborhood where every other house had a zebra skin on the wall. Seeing it brought back memories of tagging along with my mother to visit her friends.

The kitchen had an honest to god Aga. The fridge was from 1950 but in very good working condition. The same could be said for the bathrooms, absolute 80s decor, except for the instant shower which was the only thing not working up to standard. A real pity since I really wanted to take a bath in the bathtub. Really relive my childhood.

The bed was like sleeping on a cloud. 

However...

Creepiness abounded as I said. There was, what I eventually realized was a 'service corridor' which actually ran parallel to the main corridor. The bedrooms were in an entirely other 'wing' of the house - very helpful for me to picture the manor houses I write about in Regency romances. And there was a hidden staircase that led to an attic - which I immediately decided was occupied by the ghost of this guy.

That wasn't the only creepy picture in the house. There were several.

But there was also a very cute little bar in the second part of the sitting room (it had three parts) and the reading nook was to die for. They let us have one pet so we brought our dog, who we thought was Alejandro at the time, but turns out she's Alejandra.

She was remarkably well-behaved. Didn't poop in the house once.

We woke the next day to a breakfast that was mid at best. I wasn't holding out much hope for the chef. But again, we had ice cream, we had Amarula, we had chocolate and we had the great outdoors. 

The gardens were remarkable. At least 40 years old, the trees were living things. We could feel their spirits. If there was anything that cemented to me the importance of conservation, it was being in the presence of those trees. So old that other plants had rooted in them so that every tree was festooned with at least two other trees, a vine and a flowering plant all tangled together and growing from a single root it seemed. Just standing beneath those trees was a spiritual experience.

Lunch was a million times better and so was dinner. Chris and I pretended to be slaves who had broken into master's house to drink his wine. 

Then we shot some sort of gangster movie that I'm still waiting to see. (Chris says he's editing). All in all, as Christmas goes, I'm counting it as one of my best - peaceful, full of love and food and rest. The journey back to Nairobi was also super smooth. And that's my Christmas holiday. If you want to tell me about yours, feel free. 

A trip from Diani Carrefour on a nduthi

I arrived in Diani late at night, and I hadn't done a lick of shopping because I didn't want to make my luggage even more heavy. I ended up sleeping at 4am so I woke up the next day at 5pm still feeling lazy as fuck. 

Luckily, my hosts had the numbers of some boda boda guys so I was able to get one to pick me up and take me to Carrefour so I could get some food supplies. 

This was my trip back to the crib.

My go-pro might be small but it's mighty.

Can't wait to do it all again. 

Diani is the shags I deserve. Peace, tranquility, and an AC. The best holiday ever.

Waterpolo Without Rules

Hey.
How was your Easter? Did you thank Jesus for dying for you and everything? I don't know, since last year and all the madness that happened with my cousin dying and my father dying...well let's just say me and Jesus haven't been close. Anyway, so my son was in school during the Easter holidays and that sucked balls but my sisters (both biological and not) and I took a trip to the coastal town of Watamu where we stayed at a resort and just holidayed. It was a good break; we ate good food, swam a lot, got fake tattoos, and I for one, did not so much as unpack my laptop. I can say sincerely it's the longest I've ever gone without touching the damned thing. I didn't even feel guilty. I was on holiday for crying out loud; the very word, holiday, implies that you're not supposed to be working. I got to know the sisterhood a bit better, bonded with my son from another mother, and my seven year old nephew with whom I have adult conversations. The weather was crazy. 38 degrees centrigrade; I mean really in a perfect world I should have sweated out all my excess fat. Anyway...speaking of exercise...

We had a game of waterpolo which was unlike any game of waterpolo I've ever played. First of all, there were absolutely no rules. Like zero. And then, as far as I know, water polo is something like volleyball in the water right? What we were playing was closer to football. We had two goal posts and the aim of the game was to score as many goals as possible.The thing was, there was no offside, no boundaries, nothing. Nothing was off limits. Including trying to drown whoever had the ball. I must admit, I was complicit in trying to drown the opposite goalie. However, and this is why guys will never win at life against girls, he was so thrilled. He flirted with me for the rest of the day. It was funny. Dude? I was trying to drown you man...
Also there was this thing the guys were doing where if someone had the ball, about five people surrounded them and tried to grab the ball away. Like a scrum. Except that when my erstwhile sister in law had the ball, every male in the vicinity was in on that scrum. From both teams. Could it have had something to do with her 38E bust? Maybe. Maybe not. Personally I was just glad there were people there with bigger boobies than me. I saw everyone's competitive streaks come out though. I mean even though she was basically being groped by every guy in the pool my sis in law did not let go of that ball. Kudos to her for determination and stubbornness. It was the craziest match I've ever participated in; sooo much fun though.

Then we came home, seven hours in the hot sun on the road. Back to real life; which means checking on social media to see what's what in the world. And I see that my baby +Wentworth Miller was being bullied by the +Lad Bible over his weight that h used to have (did you know he was part black btw?) and he'd written a think piece about how he was depressed at the time and turned to food as an antidepressant. And how he'd suffered from depression since childhood and he was damaged goods, etc etc. It's really deep; you should go read it off his facebook page. Anyway, it was a whole new level of keeping it real and of course it sprouted think pieces about how we put our best 'face' forward on social media and act like everything is hunky dory when it isn't. Except if we're +kehlani and have attention seeking behaviour by 'attempting suicide' on social media. Yes, I'm calling bullshit. I can't believe me and +Chris Brown agree on something. If someone wants to commit suicide they don't make huge announcements on +Instagram about it. They just go ahead and do it. And then, if they've attempted suicide and it didn't work, they aren't all; "I want people to learn from me that's why I'm posting" a day later. That is just 100% bullshit. And I say this knowing I volunteered for the online hotline for the You Are Not Alone campaign. I might have to deal with other attention seekers just like her and find some empathy to get them through their fake crises...God, they're going to fire me aren't' they?

Anyway my point was, just like Wentworth I've had depression off and on since childhood. I remain undiagnosed but I recognise my symptoms from descriptions of how it feels to be in that black hole. And having a child caused me to understand that its not just a normal state of being, and not everyone goes around wondering if they'll live to see their eighteenth birthday. Not that I was suicidal; I was just supremely aware that people die. I guess maybe that's why I'm not at all troubled about getting older and sprouting grey hairs. Maybe.
And that's it for keeping it real this week. Are you buying Child of Destiny? And reading it? If you haven't you should. It's definitely worth your coins. Don't forget to leave a review! thank you darlings.