Maudlin Monday.

• This is the view from one of my windows. The first one was taken around five o’clock and the second around seven o’clock. I keep trying to paint this scene but I never get the colours right. What can I say? I’m a novice.

• Hubs interviewed Linda Ikeji today. Her blog  is one subject we do not agree on. But you know, bless the hustle and all that.

• I must have written about 2,000 words all day today. This post does not count. My editor is terribly English – and a bit posh. When he scolds me, it feels like being chastised by 007.

• I had about eight nightmares yesterday night. I slipped from one into another. It happens when I am stressed.

• I used to write poetry a lot; pages and pages of the stuff. At about 20 I had two poems sent off for publication by a friend in  the Abuja Literary Society. In subsequent reviews, I was  referred to as a ‘He’. It pleased me. It had a certain Brontë-esque quality.

• I found a poem I wrote a while ago. I would love to have a reply to it, or your take on it, in any form. I was trying to tell a story as succinctly as possible. I hope I succeeded. It’s called ‘You Good?‘

He asks ‘You good?’
And I know the mood

But when I step in his life
He likens me to a ‘bored housewife’
Hurries off Central
When our eyes meet
At Bond Street

So when he asks ‘You good?’
I say ‘Hey. I’m good’.

• Ugh. It’s one of those days. I am full of self-loathing.