If, whilst reading the blog, it feels like there is no preamble to it it's probably because there isn't one. One day, I finally found sense in a piece of advice my father gave me: if you want to write, just write. So I did.
It started at the end of a rainy day in Paris - see story below - and has moved with me wherever I've travelled in the time since. Within this space, you will find myriad posts - some on my experiences as a Ghanaian girl living in London, some on amusing travel stories, scenes of familiarity and comfort on home turf, an irreverent look at the issue of race, reviews of films and interesting cultural happenings in the capital, short stories and much more.
I'm pleased that you're reading this right now - I'd love it if you keep coming back, post comments, join the conversation and get in touch via twitter (@davida_davida) or email me at firstname.lastname@example.org. And if you like the blog, go to the top of the page under 'Readers' and click the 'join this site' button. Happy reading!
*Meanwhile, here's that first seemingly random post*
What a miserable day it was! Weather-wise that is. It's funny, but when I looked out the window in the morning, I didn't even mind about the rain. It could have been because I'd bought an umbrella the day before, and so was feeling smug. You know, unlike those people you see in the rain doing their best to act like they're in touch with Mother Nature, loving the feel of the rain on their skin, acting like they have a brolly in their bags which they just can't be bothered to take out.
I'm usually one of those people.
Because, really, everybody in London knows that it would be rash to step out without some form of protection against the rain, which you can be sure will fall, even if the sun that had been shining only a moment ago was the type that could put Marbella to shame. So more often than not, you do feel a bit stupid when you're caught in the rain without a brolly, and it feels like everybody else stares at you, silently wondering, 'what happened? What were you thinking, stepping out without the you-know-what?'
Hence my smug feeling this morning. Now, even though I had the brolly, I decided not to take it out, preferring instead to don my beret. I even decided to eat my yoghurt whilst walking in the rain. What possessed me I don't know. So there I was, walking along, listening to my music, completely oblivious to everything.
And what should happen?
Only that a car whizzes past at top speed and drenches half my body in water from a puddle that's gathered!!! And not just my body, but my beloved yoghurt too! To my credit, I must say I acted like nothing had happened, (dignity and all that, besides I didn't want to be roadside entertainment for the cars that were caught in traffic on the other side of the street, who must have been waiting for some deranged behaviour from me. Take that!) even though my mind was screaming a swear word. Needless to say, I dumped the yoghurt in the nearest bin, got some tissues from my bag and wiped my hair, face, top and jeans. And then out of nowhere, I had a sudden urge to laugh, but couldn't ( You know, deranged behaviour and all that). But then I thought, what the hell? I'm laughing and I don't care! So that's what I did. Every few minutes, a laughing fit would assail me.
Singing in the rain? I wouldn't say as such, but by the time I got to uni and went to the gents (I had no idea it was the gents until a guy walked in and we looked at each other in mutual horror, where it transpired that I was in the wrong room. They really should be concerned about the lack of sign on the wall) to clean my shoes, I felt human again. Things got better from then on.
I take it back. It was a beautiful day. Considering.