tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34256749638296149642024-03-16T02:10:17.959+01:00alittleofthisnthatAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16851501456622515955noreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425674963829614964.post-24044585187648279252015-04-08T12:03:00.003+01:002015-04-08T12:03:24.376+01:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16851501456622515955noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425674963829614964.post-34250913832187775972013-09-08T12:54:00.000+01:002015-04-08T12:12:13.524+01:00My E-card<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
So I just got my e-card and I like it a lot. Contact number not for creepy people.</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16851501456622515955noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425674963829614964.post-70872531273699274332013-01-06T20:00:00.000+01:002013-01-10T14:15:53.278+01:00FaceBook Addict<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><i>Stoke my embers so my fire may light </i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><i>Ignite it so it may burn bright. </i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><i>Within your pages my life has found meaning </i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><i>And I have an audience for stories I wish to tell </i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><i>And fingers for words I conjure. </i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><i>Stoke these embers as comments or likes </i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><i>For without thee my fire has no light </i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><i>And my day lies like ashes cold and grey.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;">Stoke my embers</span></i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><i>And ignite a bright blue burning flame</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><i>So I may tell you all that I lay claim</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><i>Secrets, triumphs, dealings and all</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><i>Let me bare my soul </i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><i>within the frame a status update allows.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Stoke these embers</span></span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><i>Let my fire roar</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><i>As I think of words true or untrue</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><i>For the comments and likes that I know will rain down like hail</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><i>And when none cometh, in passing minutes and then hours</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><i>I know it is my wit that faileth.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">So stoke these embers</span></span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><i>So I may tell lots of tales, some of them really tall tales </i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><i>And keep brotherhood </i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><i>With those whose faces are sometimes abstract </i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><i>Or presented with none that is thine.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Stoke, stoke, stoke</span></span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><i>That I may not die</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><i>I'm betrothed to thee.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><i>And if within your pages I do not find fulfillment,</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><i>Nobody else will.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;">(Ok this last part is totally silly, I know. The entire thing is silly, I know that too). </span></i></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16851501456622515955noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425674963829614964.post-79433290054696829542012-11-11T20:52:00.003+01:002012-11-11T20:52:33.697+01:003 Years already . . .<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'bookman old style', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px;">Dear Dad,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'bookman old style', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'bookman old style', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'bookman old style', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px;">We'll be marking the 3rd year since you physically left tomorrow. Some people say "smile he has gone to a better place and he is still with you." Maybe in another 50 years if I'm still around, I'll finally accept this but right now as each day passes, when a memory is triggered, all I can think of is how it could have happened.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'bookman old style', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'bookman old style', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'bookman old style', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px;">How and why were you taken so soon is something I'm still bothered about, you were in my book, the very best of my world and you can't and won't be replaced.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'bookman old style', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'bookman old style', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'bookman old style', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px;">So I hope you're good and when you take time to look down at us, your thoughts are that you bred a fine bunch of children and you have grand children who still know and say you love them.</span><br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kFDxnfQxmdc/UJ__mRHv-kI/AAAAAAAAAHs/Xv3lJr-_ESI/s1600/DSCF0917.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kFDxnfQxmdc/UJ__mRHv-kI/AAAAAAAAAHs/Xv3lJr-_ESI/s320/DSCF0917.JPG" width="320" /></a><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'bookman old style', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'bookman old style', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'bookman old style', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px;">In the time you've been absent, there are times I feel you'll be behind me if I just look back, or times I feel I can hear you whistle a tune you particularly loved. These times are precious, I know for certain you're not too far away. But on days when I'd like to share my worries, my victories or some moment I feel only you would be the best recipient of the words I'd like to utter, at moments like that, nothing makes up for the fact that your smile will only be conjured in my imagination and your voice listened to in my head.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'bookman old style', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'bookman old style', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'bookman old style', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px;">I miss you dad, 3 years down hasn't made it any less painful that your gone.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'bookman old style', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'bookman old style', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'bookman old style', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 13px;">Rest in Peace. </span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qoX9wLVKijc/UKABes1GGNI/AAAAAAAAAIE/SO5-zdb9jP8/s1600/IMG-20111031-00434.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qoX9wLVKijc/UKABes1GGNI/AAAAAAAAAIE/SO5-zdb9jP8/s320/IMG-20111031-00434.jpg" width="320" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16851501456622515955noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425674963829614964.post-18126892119186091902012-11-02T21:58:00.000+01:002012-11-02T21:58:12.099+01:00Spotting Miss TrunchbullFeeling totally exasperated and with a mounting dark mood after accomplishing only one of two tasks and thinking of the possibility of having to do a return trip all because our dear Government came up with this brilliant plan to ban Okada's, I did not give up on my trek but branched to refuel so I could live to trek again.<br />
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I walked into my favourite joint which should actually be avoided for health reasons, but which I walked into nonetheless today. Placed my usual order ' A Colonel's Meal Please.' I think its just adequate and not too filling, I still get off with the feeling there's still hope for my diet with this order.<br />
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Im beginning to tap my fingers, the chips which should have taken 4 minutes to arrive is stuck in traffic. That's odd I like KFC for their professionalism, I like to think there's a standard manual for service they must all abide by. This branch obviously werent schooled in Customer Service and Fast Serving.<br />
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A woman walks in, she's tall, not huge but big and easily dwarfs me. She orders 2 bowls of rice, 1 pack of french fries, 6 pieces of chicken and one bottle of water. It's an eat in order and it's obviously for 2 or 3 people. I stare eeked her order is been put together before mine, not funny at all. The service guy who took my order maybe seeing the look on my face, gets mine ready. I leave, not waiting to the usual confirmation of an order.<br />
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The woman sits opposite from me, she has everything on her tray. Then she starts with one bowl of rice and is soon done. A chicken goes next and then I look to the door to see if the person she was waiting for was coming in. Her body language seemed to say that much. Then the chips went next and at that point, I decided I had to sit through this to see what exactly would happen to all that food.<br />
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Yep. She finished it all up and at that point I began to wonder how she pulled it off. I mean there has to be some sort of bell that goes off in one's head when food is being gobbled isn't it? So she gets up and leaves and she's suddenly become way bigger than she looked before and all I could think of was ALL THAT FOOD ONLY FOR ONE PERSON HABA!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16851501456622515955noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425674963829614964.post-61747763030952261662012-11-02T21:33:00.002+01:002012-11-02T21:33:39.535+01:00Ah Lagos!I finally came to the conclusion based on first hand experience today the the Lagos State Government didn't really think through the implications of the ban on motorcycles aka Okada's.<br />
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As i tried to get from one end of Victoria Island to the other today, staring at the emptiness of zipping 2 wheeled previously considered menaces, I muttered unwholesome expletives under my breathe when a kind gentleman pointed out that going around the Island was nigh impossible without a car.<br />
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So it boils down to the fact that our dear Governor did not take into consideration the fact that some areas on the Island don't really have bus routes and the main mode of transportation were these bikes who now scuttle about like frightened mice.<br />
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We can all joke with the fact that the trekking we now experience, is some form of exercise, I totally agree, I felt the calories burn as I walked the strip of Akin Adesola only to branch off on Adeola Odeku when I spotted that Finger licking joint.<br />
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Sigh! An enjoyable zip and weave through traffic and having the hair on my neck rise just as we manage to maneuver out of a close shave is now history, but at what cost? Yes Okada's should be controlled, curtailed, nipped whatever it will take to bring order and discipline to their lot, but to have them off streets where they are truly needed isn't and hasn't been an obviously well thought out plan.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16851501456622515955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425674963829614964.post-15042812238073173062012-11-01T21:52:00.001+01:002012-11-01T21:52:35.500+01:00Uche Umez: Literary Africana: Abubakar Adam Ibrahim<a href="http://ucheumez.sentinelpoetry.org.uk/2012/10/literary-africana-abubakar-adam-ibrahim.html?spref=bl">Uche Umez: Literary Africana: Abubakar Adam Ibrahim</a>: Abubakar Adam Ibrahim has been described precisely as ‘a writer to look out for’ by Helon Habila, the author of the magnificent Waiting fo...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16851501456622515955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425674963829614964.post-62774610861507253272012-11-01T21:47:00.001+01:002012-11-01T21:47:46.741+01:00Uche Umez: Literary Africana: Richard Ali<a href="http://ucheumez.sentinelpoetry.org.uk/2012/11/literary-africana-richard-ali.html?spref=bl">Uche Umez: Literary Africana: Richard Ali</a>: In his review of City of Memories by Richard Ali, the literary critic and columnist, Ikhide Ikheloa, considers Richard as "perhaps the mos...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16851501456622515955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425674963829614964.post-5116639116723978542012-10-05T20:57:00.002+01:002012-10-05T20:57:49.479+01:00iRead<br />
Writing in a socially challenged society: going the social commentary routeIn a nation where many have come to view works of art, be they visual, auditory or the written word, as an escape from harsh reality, some have argued that making these problems the main thrust of works or art constitute a form of double torture. They argue that the man on the street would rather read about happy people, rich people, people in love and people having fun, rather than the problems that stare them in the face every day. They don’t want to read about poverty, sickness, corruption and the like, because they know all about it, these ills stare at them from their mirror, and from the eyes of every stranger they meet on the street. No matter how plausible these arguments sound, the truth is that they are a very false premise with which to judge what one should write or should not write about. That people want an escape is something that everyone can readily agree with, but that they still have to come back to the same reality is another that should not be ignored. It is therefore of great import to record the society as it is, not to mock, but to show. And by showing, attention can be brought to these ills and perhaps a redress began. Perhaps it is with this need to show and become a catalyst for the much needed societal change that a crop of new age Nigerian writers are shunning the urge to pander to the wishes of those who advocate for writers to provide escape for the average man on the street, by making social commentary an integral part of their work. With the support of Coca-Cola’s “1 Billion Reasons to Believe in Africa” campaign, iRead will be hosting some of these young people whose writing have given ample voice to a new generation seeking to change their society for good. Four writers, drawn from across Nigeria, all with strong elements of social commentary in their works published this year will be reading from their work and interacting with the audience about the Nigeria they see now and the one they hope to usher in through their writing.<br />
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1: Ukamaka Olisakwe:<br />
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Ukamaka Olisakwe is a new generation Nigerian novelist with amazing talents. Her debut novel Eyes of a Goddess will draw tears out of her readers. She is a banker in Nigeria with a degree in Computer Science. Ukamaka is currently pursuing a graduate degree in Communication and Linguistic Studies at the University of Port Harcourt. She is a young mother of two daughters and one son, and lives with her husband in Eastern Nigeria.<br />
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2: Richard Ali:<br />
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Richard Ali is a lawyer who hails from Idah, Nigeria. He was born in Kano, lives in Jos, Nigeria, and is presently Publicity Secretary [North] of the Association of Nigerian Authors. He is the Editor-in-Chief of the Sentinel Nigeria Magazine. His novel “City of Memories” was published this year.<br />
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3: Emmanuel Iduma:<br />
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Emmanuel Iduma was born in Akure, Nigeria. He obtained a degree in Law from Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife. His interests range widely, including web technology, digital art, visual art, and creative writing. Emmanuel works mainly as a writer of fiction, nonfiction, and poetry, and has won awards and received recognition in each genre.Emmanuel is the co-founder of Iroko Publishing, which has published Saraba as an electronic magazine since February 2009. His work in Saraba has been acclaimed globally, including in The Guardian (UK). He is currently the editor of 3bute.com an online mashable anthology of African modernity. He is the author of the novel “Farad”.<br />
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4: Sylva Nze Ifedigbo:<br />
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Sylva Ifedigbo is a Doctor of Veterinary medicine, a writer and a Corporate Communications professional. He is an award winning essayist and author of the novella, “Whispering Aloud” and collection of short stories “The Funeral Did Not End”.Sylva’s Essays have appeared in The Punch, The Nation, 234Next, Nigeria Village Square, Nigeria Dialogue, amongst others. He manages a weekly column on Daily TimesNG. He is also the features & Reviews Editor of Sentinel Nigeria and an Ambassador for the Coca-Cola A Billion Reasons To Believe in Africa Campaign.<br />
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Venue:<br />
CORA House<br />
1st Floor<br />
95 Bode Thomas Street<br />
Surulere,Lagos.<br />
Date: Saturday 13th October 2012<br />
Time: 3-6PM<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16851501456622515955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425674963829614964.post-82037590608210019522012-07-19T14:11:00.001+01:002012-07-19T14:11:28.507+01:00How to worship the Nigerian god | Daily Times Nigeria<a href="http://dailytimes.com.ng/opinion/how-worship-nigerian-god#.UAgHVWaGF8t.blogger">How to worship the Nigerian god | Daily Times Nigeria</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16851501456622515955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425674963829614964.post-70238056177476747492012-06-10T17:29:00.002+01:002012-06-10T17:30:51.749+01:00Maybe Nigerians ReadThe smell of incense, the fullness of Mass and the sale of books. Absolutely interesting day, brilliant idea and a whole new experience in marketing books.<br />
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When I got to the Christ the King Catholic Church Ilasamaja about 8.15am, I wasn't entirely sure how the day was going to go and if it would be worth our while at all.<br />
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We hurriedly set up since we were informed first Mass would be done at 8.30am. It didn't end until 9.15. So there I was beginning to be sceptical because I already thought, this is a church not a reading community. Not that my thoughts was too far from the truth.<br />
<br />
First mass finally ended and there was an influx of Parishioners coming to see what books we had, I panicked, thinking, how the hell were we going to cope with not just the books which they thought looked interesting, but with all the questions they asked. I might as well have been a lecturer with all the explanations I gave concerning books today.<br />
<br />
Amazingly though, I virtually witnessed what I had taken to be a cliché, my very first experience dealing with a group of non reading Nigerians, who believe reading or buying a book isn't so important especially for children. The shock of it as I saw kids who looked clueless and parents who made me feel I was Einstein was truly disturbing.<br />
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Thankfully there was to be a competition, so they had to buy books, well if that was what made these Parishioners buy the books, I had to applaud.<br />
<br />
All in all, bottom-line we raked in sales. Would our presence today translate into a reading awareness? I'm not entirely sure about that, unless of course more competitions are organised and prizes as an incentive to get more eyes stuck to a book. Maybe.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16851501456622515955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425674963829614964.post-29959997337772854912012-06-09T16:20:00.003+01:002012-06-09T16:23:53.488+01:00Ebedi Writers Residence<br />
PRESS RELEASE<br />
THREE WRITERS BEGIN THE JUNE 2012 EDITION OF THE EBEDI INTERNATIONAL RESIDENCY PROGRAMME<br />
<br />
Three writers have commenced the June 2012 residency program at the Ebedi International Residency Programme, Iseyin, Oyo State. The writers, who will be in residence for a period of six weeks include: Richard Ali who was born in Kano, Nigeria and obtained a LL.B. from the Nigerian Law School. He presently practices Law in Jos, Nigeria. His novel, City of Memories, was published by Black Palms Publishers. He served as Editor, Sardauna Magazine from 2005 to 2007. He was shortlisted for the 2008 John la Rose Short Story Competition, and attended the British Council Radiophonics Workshop the same year. He has been active in the Association of Nigerian Authors (ANA), serving as Secretary for the Plateau State chapter for two years and is presently Publicity Secretary [North] of the national body. He is, at present, Editor of the Sentinel Nigeria [online] Magazine and is Chief Operations Officer of Parresia Nigeria Limited, a new Publishing company based in Lagos, Nigeria Publishers. He will use his time at Ebedi residency to carry out research on a historical fiction and finish work on his debut poems, The Divan of the Four Winds, which his publishers are eagerly awaiting.<br />
<br />
The second writer, Niyi Fasanmi is a Lagos based writer and teacher. A polyglot, who speaks Yoruba, English, French and Russian, Fasanmi is the holder of a Master of Science degree from the University of Lagos. Some of his works include, The Story of Ajantala, BARRICADES, AGAINST THE CULTURE OF SILENCE, and THE FLOODS. Niyi will use his time in the residency to complete his ongoing novel and interact with students of secondary schools in Iseyin in the areas of fiction and nonfiction writing.<br />
<br />
The third writer, Awwal Sakiwa, a Book Illustrator, Artist and Comic series writer is presently the Director, Hill Top Art Centre, Minna. He also teaches Fine Arts in Government Secondary School, Minna, Niger State. As a testimony to his good standing as a versatile artist, Awwal illustrated most of the books published in Minna Niger State and designed the Niger State logo. He founded the Arts In Vogue Gallery, Minna where he trained many apprentices who are mostly now self-employed. A passionate comic series writer, he is the author of a comic book, “The Story of Bayajiddah”. Some of his other works include, designing the mural on the walls of institutions such as: Hill Top Art Centre Minna, Ijah Central Mosque,Wuse, Tunga Central Mosque Minna, Calvary International School Aware Ondo State, Will Bright International school Akure, Ondo State to mention just a few. While in Ebedi, Awwal will work extensively with secondary school students from Iseyin on his pet project called: “Let The Children Live” through which he hopes to mentor children in the areas of Fine Arts and Comic Book writing.<br />
<br />
The Ebedi International Writers Residency Programme, Iseyin, Oyo State is an initiative to give emerging and established writers an all-expenses paid convenient environment in which to complete their ongoing works. Since its inception two years ago, the Residency has played host to several Nigerian and Foreign writers who in return have also mentored many secondary school students in Iseyin. The residency is being managed by a Board of Directors made up of Akintayo Abodunrin, Alkasim Abdulkadir, Uche Peter Umez and Maryam Okediran who is the Chairman. Applications stating a Curriculum Vitae and a 500-word excerpt of ongoing work should be sent to the Board Chairman at ebediwriters@yahoo.com.<br />
<br />
Signed:<br />
Uche Peter Umez<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16851501456622515955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425674963829614964.post-91997645989459047472012-06-09T13:02:00.001+01:002012-06-09T13:02:49.419+01:00Books and moreI liken Book reviews to the story of the 3 blind men and the elephant. 3 men were brought before an Elephant, stood on different sides and had 3 different reports to give about what they felt they had touched.<br />
<br />
That's just like a book, the book being the Elephant and each reader a potential blind man. A book with this illustration, is even worse when it comes to expressing opinions. Readers come from different backgrounds, think differently and so will have different opinions. What's amusing however is the different opinions that could be generated from one single book.<br />
<br />
I love reviews really. Its a peek into another person's mind. Some reviews leave you excited, some leave you wondering. Some will take you looking for the closest book store, some leave you wishing you shouldn't have bought the book.<br />
<br />
At the end of it all, a review is that which it is; one person's opinion and thoughts on what has been read.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16851501456622515955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425674963829614964.post-26342297509963461492012-06-04T17:28:00.001+01:002012-06-04T17:29:51.861+01:00June 2012I'm back and if an award for the laziest blogger exists, I should get it.<br />
<br />
This year has been pretty amazing. Not sure where I should begin from. But maybe the fact that from loving books to finally printing them sorts of summarizes it nicely.<br />
<br />
Okay I also seem to want to write more. So forgive me Bloggy for staying away so long, but hey I'm back aren't I?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16851501456622515955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425674963829614964.post-1755057166062035292011-12-31T10:33:00.001+01:002011-12-31T10:33:55.873+01:00A New Year . . .A New Beginning<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Its. . .the last rising and setting of the Sun, the last twinkling of the stars . . .the last appearance of the Moon . . .the last chirping of birds, in the very last day of the year . . .its simply awesome . . .its a transition that lacks words but gives you a heart of gratitude as the ushering into a brand new year commences.</span></span>
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16851501456622515955noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425674963829614964.post-55747682414308334622011-12-24T16:07:00.000+01:002011-12-24T16:07:00.743+01:00<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><b>I miss the Christmases of innocence and magical things, of cold and trees hanging with sweets and chocolates, of meals planned a week or two before, of Santa who was Dad, of cakes, and the smell of fried chicken. I miss the Christmas of carols and the race to the tree on the struck of 12. I miss all that we knew it would be and the surprises that were sure to come. I miss all that the season offered and I definitely miss being a child. </b></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16851501456622515955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425674963829614964.post-73606374114998429302011-12-03T15:12:00.000+01:002011-12-03T15:12:24.471+01:00The Egg Monster . . .Help!!!<div class="MsoNormal">Suddenly, We are nolonger safe . . .</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My 2 year old son who will turn 3 on Monday has suddenly acquired the taste for eating eggs. I almost thought he was going to become a natural veggie since he had rejected everything so far; meat, fish and eggs . . .ok he loves milk, but I think that's just reminiscent of the one he cant suckle anymore. So I tried everything Omellete's, Scrambled Sunnyside up and even my own concoction with butter, milk and a lot of seasoning, I only ended up hearing a loud No! and his sisters sighing in satisfaction as they gobbled his meal.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Now I wasn't sure if I should be worried or just see how it would play out. But my son and youngest brother are two peas from the same pod see and I grew up catering to the demands of my brothers need to eat 3 eggs for breakfast lunch and supper. It just had to be 3 eggs each time. And this is how it would go:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">"Afi or whoever, go and buy me three eggs" and God help whoever was ordered to get three eggs not to get them. So he would stand in the kitchen ensuring the eggs were beaten, fried and served without anything happening in between. And that's what he would eat, 3 eggs no more no less, per meal, 9 eggs everyday, and we didn't own a poultry.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So of course I expected my son would tow the same line since he seemed to naturally do what my brother did when he was young, but no he didnt want eggs. odd most odd. So recently I tried again and eh! he ate the eggs and he wasnt even threatened. Then I began to set aside an egg for him anytime it was part of a meal . . .yep thankfully just one, he didnt make any demands. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then yesterday I decided to add more dry pepper and spices then I usually added to their eggs just to pep it up a bit more and wahala! I unleashed the egg monster. He ate his . . .ate both his older sisters after he had cried loud enough for them to give in. Came to me and asked for more, when I gave him the first time, he actually said I had given him too little, I gave him the eye and he left. He came the second time and I still indulged him, the third time I saw him heading for the kitchen, I locked the door and threw my egg into my mouth . . .haba! the boy was going to eat 5 eggs at this rate.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When I thought all had been forgotten with yesterdays meal, he woke up this morning rejected his regular meal of golden morn and declared loudly he wanted to eat egg. Then I knew 2 peas from the same pod are exactly what they are . . .similar in everyway. Till he's 5 I need to start keeping a poultry.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16851501456622515955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425674963829614964.post-14795176304184639212011-08-19T00:08:00.000+01:002011-08-19T00:08:13.695+01:00Design Pages Online: If a Pool Guy can drive a Ferrari...<a href="http://designpages.blogspot.com/2011/07/if-pool-guy-can-drive-ferrari.html#links">Design Pages Online: If a Pool Guy can drive a Ferrari...</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16851501456622515955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425674963829614964.post-66783282621387756702011-08-03T11:58:00.000+01:002011-08-03T12:36:42.110+01:00Her Royal Crankiness<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Its about that time of the month again; the familiar irritation, slight frown and dark mood has set in. Funny isn't it that's what heralds the presence of the red robots. For some women, its preceded by cramps, for others an outbreak of pimples. Other symptoms include: soreness of the breasts, throwing up and that utter scary disbelief you might be preggy especially when you think you've been careful. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">When I was younger, and oh so innocent it was a one or two hour tummy ache. That was all and panadol when it was nice and plain not the variants we have now, worked wonders. So maybe its age induced or the fact that because I've taken medical precautions to ensure a tumble in the hay doesn't result in another 9 month swelling, thereby translating into another grinning till your face aches bundle of JOY. Three bundles turned loving Monsters is enough thank you. So maybe that's what's happening to me the mild irritation knowing I don't have to mark my calender, I'm not bothered if I'm late...not that I know when I am. So I must see these monthly visitors as an intrusion isn't it...amazing what we humans come to think as buggers.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">In secondary school my best friend and bunk-mate, absolutely loved her monthly, counted the days to it and was just abnormally excited when it came. I'd stare at her just wondering what she found delightful about the next couple of days while her Nile flowed. I only experienced that Joy when I was at that stage when missing it spelt being sent out of home to sleep under the bridge, but then we wisened up I think.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Its here again, it hasn't been heralded by cramps or little droplets which escape unattended to, its been noticed because my mood has changed and then I remember...Oh its here again, that slight inconvenience I often wonder just why we were chosen to be stuck with...why wasn't it something else? But then we cant question these deep time unchanging facts can we? Thankfully this compulsory visitor is just here for two moons and a quarter and then my mood improves eventually.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16851501456622515955noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425674963829614964.post-24466475771120939772011-07-03T04:44:00.000+01:002011-07-03T04:44:11.313+01:00Politics and IntriguesI recently became the Assistant Secretary General for my school Alumni, for one who had always worked on one committee or the other and has always been active, the politics and intrigues I have witnessed in the last one month is intriguing.<br />
<br />
I will use you dear blog to let off steam, become refreshed and then go back to work.<br />
<br />
This all started with a court injunction from a particular set. Ha! an injunction...what could they possibly hope to gain from it? Three months after the injunction we get new executives sworn in, well only one position had to be voted for--mine--so I won.<br />
<br />
The President despite my initial fear is totally committed to the Alumni but we see factions in form of Chapters begin to bicker, issues spring up, some are resolved. some simply let go. Then comes the financial play that must have been manipulated before and had popped up again.<br />
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The financial report is written and mailed. I read mine two days after its sent. First thing that jumps out is a N100,000 overcharge...where is it? And for crying out loud why did I have to notice...<br />
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I finally get angry yesterday...Mr Know it All keeps posting stuff I had been ignoring the last one...well that was it for...I was livid...and humbly sent my reply, like he humbly stated he posted his.<br />
<br />
I hope Ive coded this well enough and if I haven't...well Dear Blog its just You and Me.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16851501456622515955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425674963829614964.post-53972728513846715242011-06-16T19:15:00.000+01:002011-06-16T19:15:43.621+01:00The Epistle of SpeechI've always thought of the art of speech...the decorum that's attached to it and the assumption at one point in time in my life that it was an innate skill that was inborn.<br />
<br />
Scene 1: The Angry Woman I had always known<br />
<br />
An angry woman who has been angered in public and at that moment has to express herself, is seen to wear the mask of anger, is heard to raise her voice, will sometimes spew obscenities or sometimes her language would be coolly abusive, but most importantly, her mouth neither opens to wide nor too far and her voice modulation even while she raises her voice or even begins to shout is deemed acceptable to the rules guiding speech behavioural etiquette.<br />
<br />
This had always been the norm in my existence until;<br />
<br />
Scene 2: The Angry Woman I began to notice<br />
<br />
A bus full of passengers suddenly has a flat or a mechanical problem. The bus stops on the side of the road. The conductor jumps down and does a disappearing act for 30 minutes (for the known fact he might be lynched lets say 10 minutes). While he was gone to God knows where, several other buses going to the same destination drive by, some empty, some with enough space for two or three passengers. He appears again out of the blues ready to give a refund but will give less than what they should get back.<br />
<br />
A woman backing a baby becomes the advocate, the voice of the people, the defender of the poor and trampled. Her face takes a mild ugly twist which becomes uglier the angrier she gets and the faster her words jerk out from her. Then its not just the twist of her face that grabs my attention, its the fact her mouth has become wider and opens up further with each angry word as if this effect passes across the message faster. How the mouth suddenly becomes a widening gore is simply amazing.<br />
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Its an ugly sight to behold this disfigurement, which I hope is only tied to an expression of anger... I've seen it more often since the first time I discovered its existence and it never ceases to amaze me, just how far the mouth will open as it delivers speech.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_UhoxtDaoLs/TfpIDXSwmwI/AAAAAAAAACs/TVD6_0JuLUw/s1600/10-67e77be4-f88e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_UhoxtDaoLs/TfpIDXSwmwI/AAAAAAAAACs/TVD6_0JuLUw/s320/10-67e77be4-f88e.jpg" width="192" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16851501456622515955noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425674963829614964.post-47344928752540549882011-02-23T10:23:00.000+01:002011-02-23T10:23:48.045+01:00And There was Light...Its 4pm and good ol PHCN pulls down the great bog lever or maybe its the huge red power button and there we have it...Electricity. I think its going to be the same as the day before and we'll have power till about 12 midnight and then none till 4pm again.<br />
<br />
That's what we Nigerians begin to do...getting to know the pattern in power generation. So its a good evening when suddenly its at 9pm and I think...*there we go another change* 5 mins later its restored and I can only be thankful.<br />
<br />
12am I'm awake to look in on the girls and we still have light. Its 3am I wake up again because my son's asking for water and amazingly we STILL have Light. I go back to sleep thinking this is just a fluke and they're most likely making up for the 5 min break *yeah right* or maybe the technician was just too tired to pull the lever or press the button. Either way we still has light.<br />
<br />
Its 5am and I'm awake again this time my day is about to begin and there's still LIGHT...Ha at this point wonders shall never end Bills were brought the day before so its not the *We Give, We Bring and Take Again Routine*. We've hit 12 hours and counting now something is definitely fishy, it might go at any moment.<br />
<br />
So I hurriedly try to get things done while its still on. I boil the first 2 kettles of water for the children's bath and there's still light. I put their oats to boil and there's still light, I boil a 3rd kettle for the flask...my younger daughter while reaching out for the flask thinking to lighten her oat gets it broken...*that flask was older than she is and she'll be 6. I boil a 4th kettle to steep 2 bags of Green Tea, I top it up and a 5th is boiled for the back of flask *which is even older than the first*.<br />
<br />
All through this power is still on. Then it suddenly hits me I could take a risk...wash my hair and get it dried...I do that in 5mins thinking it would go off at any moment. The hair dryer is set to the highest my scalp tingles as the heat burns...my hair is getting dry and there is still light. Its virtually dry and then I think to take another risk...having the girls hair oiled and dried too. I proceed quickly and I'm done in about 10mins and....Yes there's still light.<br />
<br />
Then I think to my self...not what a wonderful world...but I could actually dry out the little drops still left in my hair. I get away with that too. Then I begin to feel uncomfortable...well i'd been uncomfortable long since 16 hours of electricity...PHCN had broken a record but then I think of what else to do...and just when I do get up...it disappears without a warning *like it ever does*.<br />
<br />
Now I'm wondering what we'll have to pay in exchange for such generosityAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16851501456622515955noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425674963829614964.post-1801152580223273052011-02-12T20:50:00.000+01:002011-02-12T20:50:28.808+01:00At Long Last...Today my older daughter who is 8 finally finished reading her first book, titled Ellie and the Cat by Malorie Blackman. It was celebrated with such pomp and pageantry, anybody would think I had won the lottery the way I whooped when she was done.<br />
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Core reason, it had taken her 365 days and counting, many threats, wicked stares, several speeches on the downside of becoming a BLOND to finish reading a 93 page book.<br />
<br />
A prayer was said at the end of the celebration one that hopefully expressed that this would be the beginning of her reading more books in shorter time and the fervent desire that she would choose books over television at all times just like me.<br />
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<br />
Halleluyah...AmenAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16851501456622515955noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425674963829614964.post-30160418636226893722011-02-09T23:14:00.000+01:002011-02-09T23:14:31.753+01:00Tooth Fairies and the Tradition continues<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">2 decades have gone by and I now have children of my own, the world has changed since I was 10 and my children are not exactly like I was at their age. Sadly they are more open eyed and are intuned to fact from fiction and things that just don’t add up.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It started with me trying to keep tradition; Santa sneaking in gifts through the door instead of the chimney and the tooth fairy leaving her monetary gifts behind too. Santa was debunked by the time they were 4. He came to be known by different names—all of the members of my family. By the time the eldest child was 8, they had learnt to gather their meagre savings, send a verbal list of things they wanted to their aunt. Of course, savings and gifts wanted never added up, but did they care, they knew Santa came in different shades and sizes with different pocket sizes to go with it.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Before I totally loose track, lets go back to the very beginning. The children were introduced to tooth fairies immediately they lost their first tooth and tradition continued. Of course this process started with the first child who strengthened the belief with the 2<sup>nd</sup> child who should do the same for the 3<sup>rd</sup> and so on. But the first at 5 believes tooth fairies should be introduced to all children and so when a friend of hers in school looses her tooth, even though it was a day late before she knew about it, she told her friend about the tooth fairy. The girl of course deciding that if my daughter got monetary gifts for losing her tooth then she could too puts her tooth under the pillow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Next day the report was tooth still there, then the questions begin to trickle in.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">At that point damage control wasn’t so difficult, the tooth fairy had rules and if there were not followed through, nothing came forth. There was this one time the tooth fairy almost became broke, 3 teeth popped out 3 days in a row and unlike when I was young and we got N1 notes for this generation of children it was N50. On the 3<sup>rd</sup> day, the tooth fairy weary from flying out to the same home, to the same pillow for 2 consecutive days overslept. A tear storm soon ensued since it was a model tooth too and quickly damage control took over. Immediately she left the room, the tooth fairy flew in and threw what she could find under the pillow quickly. Then it was loudly announced the tooth fairy was sure to have come around breaking her rule of coming around at night, but it was possible it could have happened. To our surprise, she did come around but left only N20...totally unbelievable but maybe she was broke. That explanation didn’t settle in exactly the way it should have.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">My second daughter was even more difficult her first tooth and the usual visit from the tooth fairy went well, but the 2<sup>nd</sup> tooth was sigh such an adventure. Her tooth didn’t exactly pop you see it came out when she fell although it was loose already but alas we weren’t sure if the tooth fairy would come to visit or not and this got her worried.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">So as usual, under the pillow it went or so I thought. That night the tooth fairy must have either over slept again or was extremely busy since nothing was left behind...but there was a twist, the tooth was held tightly in her fist all night because she wanted to see the fairy when she came. Ah children!!! Well the fairy obviously must have visited but saw what the little girl did and decided to come back later.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">To break the camels back, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>this must have been done to put me in a tight spot, the girls tell their lesson teacher about the tooth fairy and he in turn asks me in front of them if it was true or a story I made up. I look at him in disbelief wondering what he expected I should say, so I defend tradition and say...Yes the tooth fairy exists and she always will till the kids are old enough to let her go.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16851501456622515955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425674963829614964.post-25938030470376913052011-02-09T23:10:00.000+01:002011-02-09T23:10:17.497+01:00Tooth Fairies<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">When I was 10, I still believed in tooth fairies who like Fairy God Mothers, were the kindest and sweetest little winged creatures, who left gifts behind when a tooth was lost.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">At 10 though this belief was becoming slightly jaded because the tooth fairies were becoming wiser than I thought they should be. It always happened like this; a loose tooth finally popped out and it was put under the child’s pillow at night or immediately the tooth was lost and it had been shown to both parents.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Then comes the euphoria of being congratulated again and again on the tooth you had just lost, how the feel of your tongue through the hole just created was an open window to let in air, and the speculation of just how much the tooth fairy would leave behind. At this point its important to explain that the tooth fairy unlike Santa or Father Christmas never left behind a gift based on a wish list but a monetary contribution towards the child’s piggy bank.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The child who would look forward to going to bed early that night also knew there were rules the tooth fairies abided by. First rule was; you got more if your tooth was flawless; white, and with no holes. Rule 2: your tooth had to have popped out on its own with absolutely no measure of force and finally rule 3: no child ever saw the tooth fairy, she came, picked up your tooth and left your monetary gift behind.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">So when I was 10 and so had gone through a decade of knowing the kind hearted tooth fairy, the unthinkable happened, I lost a tooth and didn’t find anything under my pillow the next morning. Aghast I ran to inform my parents about this injustice...my dad who always had an answer for everything suggested I shake out my pillow, shake out my beddings, and lift my mattress if I had to since he knew the tooth fairy simply NEVER FAILED.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I went back to my room and vigorously shook everything he asked me to...but no gift, then I lifted up my mattress and viola there were 5 crisp N1 notes. I immediately whooped with joy before it suddenly occurred to me that small, petite, almost invincible tooth fairies as described by Enid Blyton couldn’t possibly have done this on their own, unless the tooth fairy had help from my one or both of my parents.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Dad finally owned up to taking over from where the tooth fairy left off when I was 8 since from then on I had become too big for her to visit, so they had to wait 2 extra years till I realised she was no longer around.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16851501456622515955noreply@blogger.com0