Thought Picnic: It's an Airfares scam, at best

Robbed blind

A few weeks ago, I visited London flying in from Amsterdam. When I looked at the pricing structure that added up to the total cost for that ticket, I decided it was important that a documentation is made of the different tariffs to indicate what a travesty the charade of airfare pricing had become.

Beyond explanation

The figures above were the breakdown sent to me in the confirmation email for my flight, they appear to speak for themselves and there are the many questions that you will find yourself asking on observation.

For instance, the cost of the flight itself is less than 50% of the total cost, why do the add-ons exceed the primary or principal cost?

It becomes daunting when you realise as in the fourth column; a comparison to the cost of the flight itself. I have to pay a Carrier-imposed international surcharge which as you can see is over a quarter of the total cost and by comparison almost two-thirds of the amount I am paying for the flight.

Indeed, it is a black box

KLM offers a lengthy but rather vague explanation of what goes into making up that number.

Due to varying costs outside the control of KLM, the carrier will impose an international surcharge per flight segment both on the outbound and return trips as well as any intermediate flights. The range of the surcharge amounts may vary according to your itinerary. Complete details on applicable carrier imposed international surcharge per itinerary can be found on the klm.us booking tool, at the bottom of the 'Flight Overview' page where the total fare is given.

No, I am none the wiser as to why I have to pay this surcharge which is literally an indeterminate tax composed of costs outside the control of KLM as if the four other charges and the duty are not also outside the control of KLM apart from the booking fee.

For a long time, I have tried to understand the inscrutable conundrum of airfare costs and I must say it was better when you were clearly able to see the fuel surcharge and other atrocious rip-offs that set the aircraft industry out as an outlier to every concept of common-sense.

Air brigandage

Maybe I should spare a thought for those leaving a USA airport because by the time you have reviewed every element of fees, taxes and charges in addition to the ones we get fleeced off in Europe – those who feared the highwaymen of old would have been visited by the mile-high bandits of the Wild West of Europe across the pond.

According to that KLM website, the following types of fees are charged when leaving a USA airport:

• US international transportation tax
• US INS user fee
• US customs user fee
• US APHIS fee
• USA passenger facility charge
• USA passenger civil aviation security service fee

How do they get away with this?

Thought Picnic: God's Grand Plan of Fixing my Slashed Tyre

The plans I made

Despite all I have seen, if I had to be told I live a wonderful life and not realise it myself, I would have failed to count the many blessings, small and large that waylay me at every turn and bring me such happiness, fun, joy and encouragement.

I planned to attend prayer meeting at church this evening and had arranged to meet up with a friend two stations further on to journey together to church.

Usually, I cut it fine with just enough time to ride my bicycle to the station, lock it up and catch the train, but I also needed to get tickets so I made much more allowances for that and just some time.

The plans overturned

I got ready, unchained my bicycle and one look at the front tyre showed that someone had found the bizarrely twisted pleasure to dig in the tyre and slashed the inner tube – that this should happen in front of my house was just cutting, I had never in my 12 years of living in the Netherlands and many times of securing my bicycle outside had my tyres slashed and it is only in my first year that I ever and only once had my bicycle stolen.

I reported the event on Twitter, got sympathy and I never thought it could ever have been a hate crime; my street does have quite an international feel to it.

New plans working fine

Putting my cane together, I walked up to the bus stop informing my friend that I might not catch the pre-arranged train, but I was just in time for the bus, to get my ticket and catch the train. The clouds were looming ready to belch their store of rain and I did not think I was that prepared but my trusty umbrella was in my bag. We met up and travelled to church, my umbrella saving us from getting drenched to the skin.

We were on time to help set up the meeting room and the meeting started as I thought about how to get the bicycle to the repair shop just about 2 kilometres away and how long it would take to repair the bicycle before I could use it again – all sorts of permutations of solutions tried to take away my concentration but I persevered in prayer all the same. The prayer sessions were exciting, different and really edifying before we had a break.

My friend returned home and then I asked another friend residing in my city if I could have a lift back home. That was arranged when I saw that my neighbour arrive for the leadership and volunteers training session.

Altering the plan

After the session, I asked if I could have a ride back home and he obliged, I cancelled the other arrangement, we got in the car where I told him the tale of my slashed bicycle tyre.

He just about encouraged me enough to get my hands dirty after he shared with me how he learnt to be a handyman having known nothing about maintaining and repairing motorbikes just two years before.

I was not sure but I was willing to try, I really did not have to wheel my bicycle to the repair shop or remove the wheel and hump that by bus to the repair shop, I just needed to find out what size of tube I needed, get that from the shop, remove the old tube, take out the wheel, put in the new tube in the tyre, let in some air to set it on the wheel, then put the tyre back on, fix the wheel and then pump the tyre to the right pressure.

The part about letting some air into the tube was quite useful information borne from experience; I was somewhat ready to try something very different.

An unexpected plan

When we got home, I showed him my bicycle as he concluded it was a slashing rather than a mere puncture. He read the measurements for the tyre and then it suddenly occurred to him that he might have a spare tube in his car.

Apparently, a few weeks before, he bought two different sizes of inner tube for his bicycle being unsure of which size will fit and on fitting the right one he had lost the receipt he needed to return the other tube for a refund.

That tube just happened to be the right size for my tyre as I planned that I would fit it on the morrow only wondering about where I might have put my bicycle pump. The lights were down and the dark of the night had come as he offered that we do it there and then.

So I wheeled the bicycle into his backyard and he set up the lights, got out his tool box and disconnecting the brakes, he got out the old tube, loosened the wheel and put in the new tube, applied manly grease to the nuts and threading and basically put my bicycle back together again.

You cannot make up such as story if you wanted to, Buddy who might not have known for sure why he obtained two tubes and that he will have a passenger in his car on his ride back home, but he was the answer to the incongruous, the improbable and literally uncanny – maybe God does move in mysterious ways His wonders to perform, but at the end, it all came together in a grand plan none of us could have contrived.

Don’t you just love it when a plan comes together?

I know that I was distraught, probably annoyed and at a time confused as to why anyone would find any pleasure in the wilful destruction of another man’s property but I was never bitter. There was going to be a solution eventually but it never went according to my plan and it was solved long before the day was over without me having to worry much and spend anything apart from the wheeling of the bicycle to the backyard and lifting the wheel ignorantly off the frame before checking where the washers were.

My friend, Buddy was a God-send beyond anything I could have imagined and I was grinning from ear-to-ear after it was all done with care, consideration, charity and kindness in an expression of unconditional love. "Buddy, you've been a great buddy," I said. Yes, that is his wonderful name lived out to reality.

In the last two months, goodness, mercy, kindness, favour and goodwill has chased me down and overtaken me so many times, as a man of faith, I can only say God has my back and has my concerns to mind – it is just amazing that God had already set in motion the plan to fix my slashed tyres long before it happened and it is a wonder how many times we have missed latching onto the good things He has planned for us long before we reached the difficult paths, situations and circumstances we come up against in our daily lives. 

Kemi: Suya Master in London

Update from Kemi: Orders are currently only taken for parties, functions and special occasions; in due course when premises are acquired, retail orders will be serviced. 

Nostalgia of tastes

Now, I have had my share of suya to the point that I can consider myself a connoisseur. From the times over 2 decades ago that I will stop my taxi on Airport Road, Ikeja where suya chefs with almost other-worldly culinary expertise would wield knives like scimitars slicing the beef off the skewers and then cutting them to bits through their fingers with such ease you wondered how they ever returned home with their fingers intact.

Sprinkled with dried spice and some onions and wrapped in paper, your choice of beverage depending on your palate completed what could easily be the meal of kings.

Once I was tempted to have it in London but when I saw unthawed beef go from freezer to fire at the London August carnival I was back-tracking so fast, I could have fallen over backwards hitting my head in utter disbelief.

Suya I have tried in other places and they have been passable, manageable with me just an arm’s length away from a sick bag but for my strong constitution.

Reliving quality suya

Then I visited my cousin Kemi who apart from her many creative talents in the arts and fashion had like any serious foodie would do found out the reason why suya in England was nowhere near the experience of tasty heaven we used to have in Nigeria.

We have seen enough of the bastardisation of our foods to presumably suit what we think are Western tastes and in the process lost the essence of the originality of our foods, just as many ethnic foods in Europe taste nothing like the foods back where they originated – it is a travesty.

I was offered suya and nostalgia collided with reality on my taste-buds, for Kemi had produced the quality of suya that if there were such a title, she would well be a Suya Master, not necessarily with the knife-wielding dare-devilry but she’ll pass the authentic suya test with bonus points by reason of satisfaction.

Choices to order

The suya magic can be applied to beef, chicken, gizzards, tripe, goat meat or chicken hearts, the attention to process and product is exquisite with an order/delivery area of East London that should expand in time.

The business is growing and you can tantalise your taste-buds and salivate in expectation by joining the I Love Suya Facebook Group or Liking the MamaSuya page – the pictures are untouched and representative of what you will get – I present, Kemi – Suya Master Extraordinaire.

Place an order and know that you can delay returning to Nigeria for the taste of authentic suya.

Thought Picnic: Under My Roof

Twitter exchanges

I maintain a very vibrant discussion network on Twitter under the handle of @forakin and it is no surprise that the inspiration for this blog has come from discussions I had on Twitter.

I find that it is nice to flesh out my thoughts in a blog because whilst I have somewhat mastered concision, precision and brevity to carry a thought within 140 characters with spare to allow for those thoughts to be redistributed by retweets, for posterity sake and completeness of purpose, a blog brings together everything I have said on Twitter.

The news story came up that Pastor Creflo Dollar has been arrested for simple battery charges with regards to his 15-year old daughter and then additional detail was published as how he choked her.

A clergyman’s dilemma

There is no need for me to dwell on the substantive parts of the story, those will be covered in extensive detail by the news wires and other low-hanging fruit commentary, but there is much to say to create interesting debate and discussion.

I can appreciate Pastor Dollar’s dilemma, he is the founder of a mega-church with all that it entails, the idea that any of his children might be found in some unconventional setting can be scandalous though nothing is said of why he refused to let his daughter attend the party she asked to attend.

One thing is certain, preacher kids are not genetically modified to be like their preacher parents, in fact, whilst any child will share the genetic makeup of its parents and might look like either or both of them, even adopt a few of their mannerisms, they are entirely different personalities.

Children are distinct persons

Living together, eating the same food and doing the same things will not turn the child into a clone of the parent, they will be distinctly and noticeably completely different people and for any parent regardless of desire, calling, occupation or authority to think that they can shoehorn their child into some compact will spell unmitigated disaster.

Parents have to be constantly reminded that much as they have aspirations for their kids, they cannot and must not try to live out their dreams through their kids; it would eventually cause conflict, resentment, rebellion and separation.

This case also shows that leaders of churches with their moniker of “man of God” tending sometimes to the expression of “god of men” are in their time revealed to be mere mortals, suffering the same pressures, issues, situations and circumstances of life as you and I, prone to error, fallible and imperfect.

Under my roof

Then let us deal with the elephantine monstrosity of “Under my roof.”

When a child reaches the age of reckoning and responsibility is when parents seem to encounter the greatest difficulty to exerting their parental influence. More often than not you will end up hearing a sentence that contains the phrase, “Under my roof.”

Indeed, it is under the roof of the parents or guardians but really, when a child is brought into this world not of its own volition but by the chemistry of procreation and every other sentimental and complicated working of the mechanics, it is the responsibility of the parents or whoever assumes that responsibility to care for that child until the child approaching adulthood can fend for itself having enjoyed parental care and succour over a period that could last two decades or more.

“Under my roof,” is only part of the package as it deals with the matter of provision in terms of food, shelter, clothing, education and some protection of sorts. These elements are generally material and do not represent or fulfil the emotional needs of the parent-child relationship in terms of love and care which might help shape the core personality of the child in having self-esteem, confidence, drive, ambition and purpose.

Sadly, certain parents confuse their role of material responsibility for their children with that which demands their emotional investment in the child which usually does not show in tangible returns but are affairs of the heart, the soul and the bonds that hopefully will last a lifetime of communication, understanding, happiness and more.

It is important for a parent to know where the limits of “under my roof” are and what extra work they need to put into the relationship to make that phrase the last thing that will ever be referenced or inferred in communicating with their child.

Spare the rod

And now, sparing the rod. When the matter of child discipline comes up every parent has been so schooled in this that it is etched in their memories literally from before they were foetuses.

Proverbs 13:24 (NKJV) He who spares his rod hates his son, But he who loves him disciplines him promptly.

In more contemporary English, the Message says: A refusal to correct is a refusal to love; love your children by disciplining them.

We normally hear people say, “Spare the rod and spoil the child.” It in no way completes the context of the admonition, but we will get there. I will not argue the semantics of beating or hitting a child, there are broader issues at play than that.

Pastor Creflo Dollar by reason of his parental authority has inalienable and vested rights to discipline his child, which is non-negotiable. Maybe we should question how he goes about doing that, but we will be caught up in subjective analysis.

Discipline is function of love

However, reading the verses in full context, you cannot administer discipline without the purpose of correction through love and that love is not as I have clearly illustrated earlier by reason of mere parental provision.

Maybe there is a fine line between administering discipline that it crosses over into abuse and consequent brutalisation, the ability to wield discipline is under the control of the parent and the way it is administered is dependent on the maturity and character of the parent which hopefully has clear aims and purposes.

It is hoped the discipline is administered for corrective purposes such that the child in taking the pain of discipline might have learnt a lesson in understanding why the parent has been strident and corrective thus appreciating that such a situation should never have to arise again or rarely occur.

In that case, following the presumed guidelines, a rod, a cane, a whip or a belt might with a pre-determined number of applications to certain parts of the body without causing undue harm suffice; if and if the rod must be used. In other cases parents might institute authority based restrictions or activities that will cause temporary hardship as an instrument of corrective discipline.

Pertinently, I see no place where laying a hand on the child is sanctioned, in fact, the only place where that might have happened is where in the bible narrative God through an angel expressly told Abraham not to lay his hand on the child Isaac when he was about to sacrifice him. In essence, the slap, the smack, the punch or the whack is verboten.

Losing control

Somehow, Pastor Dollar in disciplining his daughter, matters appeared to have gotten out of hand, between he-said and she-said, she was smacked with a shoe, thrown to the ground and somewhat choked. You then wonder if the mother was there to observe, exacerbate or quell the situation.

It would be stretching the imagination to see where the rod, the discipline and the love sits in this setting, in fact, if anyone can fit any of those components into the context of correction, I’ll eat my hat.

It brings us to another element of parents momentarily losing control of a discipline process such that it is no more discipline but the parent acting out their frustration – everyone knows including the child that the event will never be corrective.

I remember an event with my father where he head-butted me, he was angry and probably frustrated and that was the discipline action that came to him at that moment in time, but as I got up from the daze of the head-butt, I looked at him as if he had gone mad. In fact, I just dusted off myself and basically walked out of his room because I thought if he laid another hand on me he might well go berserk.

No, that was not a discipline moment and at that particular point in time, I think we both realised that we would get nowhere and left the issue to another time.

Then there was another time when both my parents ganged up on me, from my perspective but the very interesting thing was my father stopped and my mother continued and then he said out of really grave concern. “Mind his eyes.” Maybe that was love, maybe it wasn’t but it was clear that he was not ready to see me brutalised regardless of how angry and frustrated my mother felt in taking it out on me.

Engaging the child

What am I getting at? The discipline process is not primarily a parental thing; the child can discern if discipline is out of love towards correction or anger towards more frustration. The former will yield the results intended, the later will just harden the child in its resolve to the point that it might just say the worst they can do is kill me – it should never get that far, in fact, the whole discipline regime is completely wrong-headed at the point and some things need to be fixed.

One admonition parents never seem to imbibe when they seek to command their children to obey their father and their mother is found in the three versions of Ephesians 6:4 “And, ye fathers, provoke not your children to wrath: but bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.” (KJV). “Fathers, do not exasperate your children; instead, bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord.” (NIV). “Fathers, don't exasperate your children by coming down hard on them. Take them by the hand and lead them in the way of the Master.” (The Message)

Believe it or not, you can exasperate your children, just as you think they exasperate you and to put that in context, I have provided definitions of exasperate.

• To make very angry or impatient; annoy greatly.
• To increase the gravity or intensity of.
• To cause great irritation or anger to; infuriate.
• To cause (an unpleasant feeling, condition, etc.) to worsen; aggravate.

Many a child has had a parent that seems to have freshly graduated from hell and ready to use every hellish skill on their child and then blame the child for making their lives a misery, have we ever asked ourselves if what we do makes the lives of our children a misery too?

Yes, children do test their parents, the real question is whether parents will pass or fail that test either proactively envisaging what to do correctly or reactively making a complete hash of the situation.

Finally,

I have heard too many times that children do not come with parental manuals, thank God, they don’t. The manual of parenthood is borne of life and character built on strong principles, else children will be one fit like machines and clones of each other – we know by now, they are not.

Parenthood is a difficult vocation just as childhood experiences can form what a person will become. I speak from my having been a child and seeing others bring up their children. If I could have children, maybe I will see things differently. I have made peace with myself about the fact I could not have children and after chemotherapy life can be just as fulfilling vicariously watching children grow into amazing people all around me.

Nigeria: My Observations of the Dana Air Crash Aftermath

Untold tragedies

Last weekend, Nigeria was hit by unimaginable tragedies that would have far-reaching consequences and hopefully significant changes for the good in what we are and who we are as people and part of the greater humanity of the world.

To have two air crashes in the space of 24 hours was just unmitigated disaster that had to be systemic in its Genesis and utterly appalling to all concerned, only the whole truth can begin to assuage the pain of loss suffered by all affected, the loss of life in both tragedies just leaves one numb as questions linger.

From what has been observed, reported and gleaned from most especially, the Dana Air crash on Sunday on the outskirts of Lagos, it is pertinent that some fundamental issues be highlighted in our approach to disaster and emergency response in Nigeria – these need to be addressed by all forms of communication, information dissemination, education and public enlightenment.

Bad or negligent maintenance?

The comment I had with regards to the cargo plane crash in Ghana of an aircraft that took off from Nigeria was related to the assumption that the brakes had failed. I opined that no matter how badly an aircraft is serviced, brake failure is not what you expect to hear of, it would appear I had spoken too soon on the matter of airworthiness and aircraft safety.

The next day, with less than an hour in the air and approaching Lagos to land, Dana Air lost its two engines and crashed into a highly populated area of Lagos, there had to be something fundamentally wrong with the aircraft for it to lose two engines on such a short flight, we hope that the black boxes reveal much more about why this happened.

Initially, there are these issues, our preparedness for impending emergencies when Mayday calls are made and what possible action the crew might have taken after the Mayday call to avert ploughing into crowded areas.

Obviously, the matter of maintenance of fleets of aircraft, their airworthiness, the age of the fleet and the other issues surrounding the regulation of airlines in Nigeria are brought to the fore by these tragedies, one will hope that all systems and processes have been above board but serious doubts remain.

Feeding our bizarre appetites for the macabre

On the ground we were met with another set of troubling circumstances.

Crowds had gathered out of curiosity and interest to view and gawp, not doing much to help the victims of either the crash before the plane exploded or those whose houses had been demolished by reason of impact and collision.

Then the first pictures that appeared showed the crowds standing on parts of the destroyed aircraft risking the contamination of essential evidence that would have had to be gathered to determine the cause of the crash.

Soon afterwards, other pictures appeared in their full gruesomeness of the presumably dead in some cases and possibly gravely injured but barely alive. The picture takers had no scruples about posting the grotesque, macabre and downright intrusively disrespectful of the victims as if they were doing a great service of wholesome dissemination of information.

It behoves one to condemn in the clearest terms the inurement we have acquired to tragedy that we think nothing of sharing these shocking pictures almost for the fun of having the technology to project the utterly reprehensible – we have seen the same in the appetite for sexually explicit rape videos, the unfortunate blowing to smithereens of a bomb disposal officer and much else – you wonder where does the savage Neanderthal in us stop gaining ascendancy and allow a sense of civility and humaneness to make us cultured humans again.

The crowds and civic responsibility

What annoyed me the most was the way crowds impeded the access of emergency services to the accident scene. You wonder if we need basic civics classes to be told and to know that emergency services should and must have priority of access, right of way and literally no impediment to getting to an accident scene.

Their ability to access the scene without obstruction and then the ability to leave the scene freely with victims for medical care must not need for anyone to be informed. Alas! I learnt something of Nigerians I somewhat did not know in 46 years of being associated with that country, we are ostentatious, hedonistic and found with the most modern of things but are primitive, backward and ignorant when it comes to emergency response either by the services or by the reaction of the people at large – it was at first shameful, then unforgivable and ultimately beneath contempt.

That the armed forces had to use whips and twigs to beat away the crowds like animals to cordon off the place for the emergency services and investigation of the air crash site speaks volumes, there are issues of crowd control but more importantly as a matter of civic responsibility people should just know to make way, disperse and make allowances for constituted authority to have way.

It is something we most definitely have to address, probably to promulgate laws that criminalise people and owners of any obstructions in the way of emergency services when they are out to fulfil their urgent duties.

Fuelling oil fires with water

The fire services unpreparedness in dealing with an aircraft fires, was evident from one of the pictures I saw. Water? At first, they did not have enough to quench the fires, but more importantly, aircraft fires are doused with foam because the active propellent is kerosene – water is the very last thing you need to attack a burning inferno fuelled by petroleum products.

Now, the houses that caught fire by reason of the accident might well have needed fire-fighting with water but I doubt a distinction was made of what caused the fires and how to tackle each fire as they raged.

To read that rescuers clashed at the scene of the crash just took my breath away. What were they thinking? How could they not reach a compromise of coordination for the sake of those they came to help? Even in the midst of such great tragedy egos and megalomania reared its ugly head as if this was some competition or contest for a prize – it is shameful.

Rescue minded even when recovering

Then, the authorities had immediately switched to recovery mode as soon as the crash was announced saying there were no survivors when information suggested the plane did not catch fire for another 20 minutes after impact giving the impression some might have survived the crash only to die from negligence and the lack of sensibility of gawking crowds when at least some rescue attempts should have been made.

This informs our mind-set of disaster, we are so lucky in sub-Saharan Africa not to suffer from earthquakes else no one will care if people were buried alive and died weeks after, people discovering the bones many years after the event.

We need a new thinking to disaster response that all is not lost until we have done all possible to assess, access, investigate, review and confirm by examination that indeed, all is lost. The first action should always be to rescue possible survivors and the recovery of remains must be the very last resort without extinguishing all hope.

The last affront

As if the tragedy was not palpable enough, the flight manifest was made public long before all relatives and survivors had been informed of the tragedy. In a country where the management of data is poor and the collection of the same for use is sketchy, one might say the only way to get the information out was to publicise it but for people to first learn of bereavement on social media or the news wires before they were individually and personally addressed as they waited in vain at the airports or watched television at home does leave much to be desired.

We have to have better ways to handling this kind of information, with dignity for the victim, with respect and consideration for their relatives and survivors and much more with a sense of compassion. The press comes after those particular humane needs have been satisfied with all due care and attention.

People with hearts of gold

My friends, there is much to think about after this tragedy and I am moved at the way people have acted with great resolve and initiative to help the victims on the ground, to obtain therapy and counselling for families, to gather help and succour for all concerned – we have the capacity for great human compassion, you sometimes wish a few more of those with minds like that were there to help in the immediate aftermath of the crash. See #DanaCrashAction

#DanaCrashAction: Immediate Relief Aid, Relief Materials Drop-Off Points

Other views on the Nigerian Aviation industry can be found in the links below. Presented as tweets.

Nigerian Aviation: Break It Up To Make It Up – by @DoubleEph http://t.co/WVCUVanv Nigerians have no business running airlines.

Great reporting from @yibukun & @jongambrellAP on the horrible #Nigeria plane crash. http://soc.li/omx2vPE

BBC News - Lagos plane crash: Nigeria suspends Dana Air licence http://bbc.in/NeMq72

How old is your plane in Nigeria? http://is.gd/x3QNtm by@jeremyweate Then in the United States http://is.gd/ROplio Crikey!

BBC News – Global Air disasters timeline http://bbc.in/qMyUmf

Timeline of air disasters in Nigeria.

My Week In London

To London

We did London for a week and that was before the Queen in all her regalia with the pomp, pageantry and celebration clogs the streets and waters of London with all their fanfare.

Strangely, it all passed in the weekend without me catching a glimpse of any of the razzmatazz on television, I hear she did us proud, but back to more important things.

The schedule had to be kept with tight; I dare say in inform some people I almost ran myself ragged trying to get across London that charges the steepest fares for transport apart from Oyster cards that may not give you the necessary feedback only to lob off an arm and a leg at the exit points. O yes, it had the jubilee commemoration design.

Business to hand

I hadn’t been to London in 18 months and it was important to catch up with friends, family and ex-lovers who have remained best of friends apart from making new ones in the process.

Akin B.C. (Before Cancer) to many, had to be seen again, as the Akin A. D. (After Disease) the cancer thankfully in full remission.

The first day involved meeting a dear friend whose career advice and help has been useful for almost two decades. I also go to take a telephone interview from his office, everything I needed being provided so helpfully.

Fed full by cousins

Then to Essex in Hornchurch on Saturday where my intervention in the kitchen prevented my being stuffed with more than I could take. I might be a tallish man but I do not have a stomach that presumably matches my height – not that any of my cousins care to listen, if they had their way, I’ll be fattened up until I could not walk – the encounter was my lot in Barking too.

By the time I trod home to Wimbledon, it was past midnight and my cane was more useful than I could have envisaged, I was so tired but thinking of church for Sunday.

Wimbledon to Hammersmith would not have been an easy journey but with the help of my friend, I got a lift to our C3 Church holding in the premises of Novotel Hotel in Hammersmith. It was a lively and wonderful service; the parts I could keep awake in of the sermon were enjoyable. Met up with some old acquaintances and then returned by substitute bus from Hammersmith to rest, it was a rather hot day.

Theatre tips

Friends and ex-lovers took the next day that included a visit to the city, viewing the Shard and going to theatre. The Duke of York theatre where Posh was showing, a send-up of the Bullingdon Club which once had the likes of David Cameron, George Osborne & Boris Johnson as members.

To be honest, there is no reason to get full-priced tickets when you can obtain good discount tickets at the box office in Leicester Square (For your information Leicester is pronounced Lester), to be sure you are getting good seats Theatre Monkey is a good site for all things theatre especially in the West End.

There is no point getting discount tickets only to have your views doubly discounted by obstructions or restricted views, theatre are for audio-visual stimulation.

Posh!

Quite an interesting insight into how the spoilt brats of the upper classes traipse out with impunity and literally no consequence because they have the money and connections to have everything taken care of.

They did a good a capella of Maroon 5’s Moves Like Jagger but I was not sure of hoity-toity white boys rapping like they were in the ‘hood as they say, it was unbecoming if not laughable, an attempt was made at a genre I cannot fully appreciate.

As for the Duke of York Theatre, getting to the lavatories was like being of the Grand Old Duke of York’s 10,000 men, I probably did four flights of stairs at different places going up and down and maybe at one time, I was only halfway up – it was funny. The nursery rhyme for your pleasure.

And finally

Then I met two men who were to me as similar as they would want to be dissimilar – Now, that is a matter of perspective. We would have had the earlier pleasure of meeting up and watching Eurovision together on Saturday but I was otherwise engaged. They to my mind are stand-out Nigerians in their various ways commendable activists on sexuality – I was pleased to have found time to meet them.

For my penultimate day in London there was first the journey to Walton-on-the-Thames to visit wonderful friends, a good English breakfast, a walk by the Thames and good banter and then back into London for a rendezvous at Foyles which was at one time in its history listed as the largest bookshop under one roof in the world. My friend’s interests were tied to the Latin American section and not too far from some rather risqué reading.

Just if you decide to walk down to the South Bank from Trafalgar Square, you are best advised to take the foot-bridge on the right-side of the crossing of the Thames – you get to see amazing views of the Palace of Westminster, Big Ben and the London Eye – it is a bridge rarely used and has freer movement.

Deepest appreciation and thanks to my good friend who gave me board, made me comfortable, offered all sorts of assistance and help in gifts of cash and kind along with words of encouragement and support – I am in your debt. Thanks.

Thought Picnic: Rehab needed for life

The tough road

I am beginning to think we need a new kind of rehab, the rehabilitation of self in such a way that you able to tread the path of reinventing yourself without too much difficulty.

One thing I have realised about myself is the radical way cancer changed me in terms of health, wealth, outlook, prospect and I dare say, self-confidence.

One cannot begin to list the many things one has lost by reason of the onset of illness and having battled and won over illness how the road back to life, living and earning a living has been fraught with difficulty, uncertainty, doubt and a sense of timidity.

This is not the man that was some 4 years ago when ability and projection were at their peak with purposefulness and determination.

Re-something

I cannot allow myself to believe I have run out of ideas but the ideas I seem to have are not working the way they used to and that means I need new ideas, some help, probably a place to meditate and a new perspective to life and livelihood.

Some 12 years ago, I got some interesting help when an occupational psychotherapist suggested I was suffering a mid-life crisis 10 years early. It appears I have now reached mid-life and the crisis has been compounded by adversity.

Surely, there must be some sort of service that deals with this issue before one becomes listless, aimless, clueless, careless, powerless and tired.

I have never been one to throw in the towel, I have continued to do what I know best, albeit not with as much fervour, I have been weakened and sapped but I am not exhausted and will not expire, if I died fighting, I will hope whatever memory is left of me includes the conclusion, he did what he knew best – God rest his soul.