The ‘lime’ on Thursday night was at this pub calle Masques, somwhere just off King’s Cross. Turns out it’s Poison UKs liming spot of sorts.
It was my first time in an English pub, you never mind I’ve been here for a month. The girls I stayed with before weren’t too much into the night life, all we did was stay at home, can’t say they showed me much of London other than how to catch the bus and which tube station to get out on.
So it was interesting to go to this Trini/West Indian lime in an English pub, apparently on to support Machel Montano’s performance in London the next day.
I wanted to go to that fete, but it was £20 to go, and well allyuh know my situation already.
When Wildegirl and I got there, it was still light in the sky. She bought me a Smirnoff Black (another first) which I quite enjoy and I think tastes better than Smirnoff Ice.
However, like the music hadn’t reach yet or something, because for the first little bit, all they was playing is rock and ting. Wildegirl of course went to ask, and no, the soca music hadn’t reached.
Who did show up though, was this chick I was sure I knew.
I looked at the bar, and saw her and recognised her immediately but hey, I am terrible with names and situations, but NEVER forget a first or a face.
Turns out that she and I, played mas for the first time together back in 2000. It was for my friends Eastlyn and Stick’s section in Barbarossa. I remember seeing her all day, but you know, I don’t remember us talking or anything.
Turns out she is at McGill University in Toronto, a school another good friend of mine works at, and she’s working on one of the student papers, one my friend worked on.
Confluence of coincidence?
She was there with her cousin and all of us talked up quite a storm while while we were waiting for the Soca to reach.
The conversation was all about identity, and nationalism. About how we make associations and definitions based on ethnicity, social upbringing etc. etc. It was quite interesting.
By the time the Soca reach though, it was too lous to really talk, and well the pub started to fill up. I felt bad, I wanted to drink but had to keep my money for train tickets and the trip back into Kent.
:sigh: The weirdest thing about the whole evening was that as the pub filled up, hardly anyone was dancing. Everyone was either sitting down, or standing around by the bar talking. I’ve never been to a lime like that before. Shit, we could have been listening jazz!
I doan business doh, I wine on my ass sitting down. Wildegirl told me when I was leaving that I do the sit down wine very well. You see my dears, when you have plenty of padding on the ass, you have a platform on which to isolate and use individual ass muscles…. it gives the full impression of nasty wining, never mind I sat down the whole time.
Getting down to where likewise is living wasn’t too hard. She lives right near to the station, so it was no big walk or anything either.
When I got there, she had just finished a Quiz Night at the pub that is right next door to her flat. She had some friends their and one of them in particular made an impression. Not in any way, but it just seems like he’s somebody I’d find interesting to talk with.
I love her flat by the way. It’s homey and lived in and full of all these earth-toned colours and it was very comfortable. Wildegirl was sweet and got me a cheap phone card, so the first thing I did was call YMK when I got to likewises.
He had begun to worry. He wanted to know how come he didn’t hear from me for so long.
He says he’s going to put some money onto one of my debit cards for me, and my mother is trying to organise the debit card in Barbados, so my destitution shall soon come to an end.
As usual our conversation was full of practical concerns and we caught up a little on what’s been happening since we last talked. It was so good to hear his voice.
After our all too brief conversation, Likewise and I chatted for a bit, and then she went off to bed and shortly thereafter I collapsed.
The next morning, grey and rainy, I sat up straight on the pallet I was sleeping on and on autopilot, I searched for a cheap way from London to Kent.
Then dressed, in the same clothes from the day before, since that was all I had and then made my way to Victoria Station to catch a coach.
On the way down, I had to call my cousin, because I didn’t have a key. I was a little panicked when he told me that he had a business meeting. I freaked out, because how was I going to get home and make it to my interview on time.
I didn’t have enough money to get more than one bus, and it was drama. His friend and business partner had to send a taxi for me and get me to his house, and then my cousin came and got me later.
However, it was a pianful, terrible dash to get ready and get off. Then the bus was late. Once I got to Maidstone, I had missed the bus by ten minutes and had to call the man and tell him I was running late. He agreed to see me when I got there, however I was more than an hour late.
All that aside, I thought the interview went well.
The man was pleasant and friendly, and well the job is not rocket science.
However, I won’t know for a week what the story is. He said if I didn’t hear from him by the Monday after next, then I’d know I hadn’t gotten the job.
I would like to get it, the money is good and it’s very close to my cousin’s house, so I’d be able to save a lot of money to get on my feet properly.
Still haven’t been able to get intouch with bluey’s friend, but maybe the time isn’t right. However, I’m still trying.
That my friends is the news at noon.
Stay tuned, updates at six.