Two of my favorite friends from secondary school decided we should have a play date this weekend, meet up and just be friends again. I jumped at the idea and suggested we meet at selfridges. What better place to catch up with friends? a place filled with people high on shopping, people who have a momentary sense of happiness cos they're surrounded by really beautiful and expensive things...(their own special breakfast at tiffany moment, except its breakfast, lunch and dinner at selfridges.) There's such a smug feeling i get from hanging out in a place filled with a false sense of happiness and there i am, right in the middle, truly happy, not because of the things i cant afford(just yet) but because i get to see my friends again. I don't need
I'm just from church and looking forward to meeting my friends at the food hall, we would have coffee and cup cakes and laugh like old times.
I walk into the food hall, i'm late, and the girls are no where to be found, and their numbers aren't connecting either. I'm relieved,thinking how great it'll be to seat down and eat by myself, subconsciously creeping back into my shell of solitude... but the need for a little air from my solitude wins. Surprise surprise, i really want to see my friends.
I finally find them shopping in zara.... and there we are, three old friends from over thirteen years ago,days when we had no need for bras, days where we wore checked uniforms and looked like pathetic prisoners,days we soaked garri in large bowls and devoured like uncultured girls, soaked biscuits in milk and milo and called it kpako flakes, days we ate kwado and ebange (disgusting garri concoctions), idomies that we soaked overnight, days we were flogged and punished....
Look at us, we're far from those girl, today, we're girls who've survived the barbaric lives of boarding school, seen life in its good, bad and ugly forms, overcome obstacles,and right now, we're just happy to see ourselves after so long and we carry on like we just walked into St Francis hostel after the night prayers sharing a bowl of cerealac and hiding from matron Zita.
We walk through the west end, we can pass for beautiful women as we go side by side, laughing at the memories of the good old days, heading off to a Portuguese(fine, to nandos....saying that just made it seem posh) restaurant to have a late lunch(selfridges pushed to the corner), three girls from over 13 years ago. Today, we're not soaking garri and making some sort of concoction, today, we're seated and dining like ladies of a kind...
Today i have been saved from myself, and the illusion of blissful solitude, life can't be lived without friends to share laughs and memories with.