Everything here expires. It’s so exasperating. Milk expires in 3 days. What sort of thing is that? Even eggs expire. Chicken, vegetables, you name it. I’ve been falling victim of these expiry dates for some time, always throwing food away as a result. And then today, I noticed the label on my bread says it’s expired since the 15th! Na lie, that one na for deir pocket. I am so eating the bread like that, heavens may boil.
Okay seriously, do these things really expire or is it just a gimmick to keep us coming back to buy more? In Nigeria, a place that’s way hotter than here, we store food for the month and it doesnt kill us. You can buy a whole month’s supply of peak milk and it’s fine. How can milk be expiring in 3 days here? So I must, whether I like it or not, finish 2 litres of milk in 3 days? I smell a rat here, honestly………..Oyinbos too do 419 afterall!
But, it would be nice for them to extend this expiry thingy to human beings as well. Imagine if people like bosses and boyfriends had expiry dates after which you may comfortably dump them in the bin. I mean, wouldn’t be nice? Lol
We have another marketing assignment (so many of them). This time it’s on retail services and we were divided into groups based on what we wanted to write on. It so happened that this Saudi Arabian girl (there are many nationals of that country in this school too) was in my group and she elected to work on retail coffee shops.
Everyone thought it was a brilliant idea and urged her on. So, yesterday I asked her how her assignment was coming along. She said; “I’m still trying to find information on the retailers, there’s no information anywhere”. I was like what, you mean you can’t find information on Starbucks? She said “no, I’m trying to avoid Starbucks”. “Why?” I asked her, not comprehending how someone would leave the easy route and tread on more difficult paths. I mean, Starbucks is everywhere, it’s even on campus. There’s got to be information on Starbucks readily available.
“Well, there are some issues with Starbucks that I don’t agree with”, she explained. “Like what?” I asked her. By this time, I was really really curious. “Well, they donate part of their profits to the Isreali army, and the publicly support them. I’m Arab and I feel guilty whenever I buy Starbucks. I feel bad that my money is part of what goes to the Israeli army”. Oh, I said, is the owner of Starbucks a jew? “Yes he is, and he doesn’t hide the fact that he supports Israel’s army”. I sat in stunned silence.
It does make sense for her not to buy Starbucks coffee, right? And it also makes sense for her to refuse to do her marketing assignment on Starbucks. I can’t fault her on her stance, not at all. And while I’m personally indifferent to Jews, I wonder if I’ll be happy to know that my money indirectly goes to the Israeli army. I mean how would that make me feel each time I watch the news and some fresh violence has erupted in Gaza? How would I feel when I see the bleeding bodies of women and children on television?
This is a fresh perspective into buying coffee for me. It is no doubt a very important point. Does it matter or not?
It was fireworks night on campus a few days ago. Breathtakingly beautiful displays! Obi, my budding photojournalist cum engineer housemate captured some of it and kindly allowed me to display them here. (I’m very conscious of copyright in this country). I’ve also included some sights and thingy around Guildford. Enjoy……………………
Okay! That’s enough pictures for a year! Lol……
It’s been such a rollercoaster week and it’s only just starting. Coursework upon coursework upon more coursework. And a cold, cold library.
The weather has started to drop to as low as 1 degree at night and 4-5 degrees in the morning. That’s the kind of cold that makes your brain want to freeze as the lecturer is talking. Then you remind yourself that you’re an international student and the knowledge of the multiple zeros in your tuition fees will unfreeze the brain immediately.
I don’t know the rationale behind the “home student” and “overseas student” dichotomy but these home students pay a mere fraction of what foreign ones pay. An annoyingly small fraction. That’s in addition to all these student loans, council bursaries and scholarships. It’s as if the government literally begs them to have university education. And do they? No, they don’t. They are perfectly content to get a vocational qualification and live the rest of their lives peacefully.
No wonder then that most of our lecturers are expatriates. Each course module is taught by a team of lecturers ranging from 5 to 8, depending on the course. And in all the four modules i’m taking this semester, I can’t point to 2 British lecturers. It’s a serious issue that the UK government should look into. Their economy is slowly being taken over by Asians. Ah, those people can study! You find them everywhere. They are focused, hardworking and very studious. They have even found their way into the British system as lecturers. Hmmmn.
Lol. They are finally here, the zany people! Ladies and gentlemen, meet my housemates (I didn’t do the video o, one of them did)………
hamilton-drive1
It is now that I know that I’m no longer in Nigeria. It hadn’t really hit me before. This is really UK!
I left my seat in the library just a few minutes ago (well, add the time it took to type this). I simply went to stretch my legs and came back within 5 minutes or less. By the time I came back I met two hefty security guys standing quietly by the corner of my desk. I walked towards them, a thousand thoughts racing through my mind. “Is this yours?” one of them asked me, pointing to my laptop, books and bag on the table. I did a quick mental audit of all I’d done on the internet this morning. I could think of anything that could have attracted campus security. “Yes”, I replied, looking from one man to the other.
“Oh ok” they said and turned to leave. Ah, ah, see me see peace oh! I kept looking at them in askance and noticing my bewildered look, they smiled at me. One made a gesture of lifting something up and pointed to my laptop. Apparently, they had seen the things unattended and decided to keep watch until the owner returns. I smiled back at them and sat down relieved (of course!).
After the relief, came appreciation for their thoughtfulness. I’m totally impressed. It can only be in UK. Infact, I want to change my nationality! How? Maybe I should marry a Briton……..
Today I took back my words, or thoughts if you like, on a classmate of mine that I had apparently misjudged. I’m surprised though, that my opinion of her could have been so wrong! Well, I guess we learn everyday.
Before now, I’d assumed she was one of those people that crossed the Atlantic to come and chew gum here, and I always gave her a wide berth. The last time I sat beside her in class, I promised myself I would never make the mistake again. Throughout the two hour lecture, all she did was poke fun at the lecturer, chitchat and chew gum (yeah, she actually did that.) I just concluded that she must have deep-pocketed parents who are probably even cajoling her to do the masters in the first place. Or how else would you such carefree behaviour? I simply made sure I never sat in that part of the class again!
But today in class, she answered questions so brilliantly, I was stunned! I kept looking at her. I couldn’t believe it was the same gum-chewing girl. How on earth? During the break, we got chatting and again I was amazed at her grasp of the course. She knows her onions quite alright. And I was wrong.
Yes, the system here too isn’t foolproof. I found out in the most annoying way today. Buses can be late, very very late.
I ran (again) to the busstop right on the stroke of the minute to catch the 11.20 bus. I got there on time but the bus did not. The display screen read ‘due’ so I waited; it’ll soon come. 11.25, 11.30, 11.33, 11.35, it still hadn’t come! By this time I was shivering from the cold. I looked up again at the screen; it now read ‘delay’. “Ok” I thought,”so get a move on”. Oh, I was in for a surprise.
Forty minutes later, the bus still hadn’t arrived! By then, I was well and truly late. The bus finally came and nobody cared to proffer any explanations, talk less of apologies for messing up the morning, the driver even had the nerve to keep a straight face (as if he could have done otherwise….)
And to think I had rushed my hot breakfast just to go and catch that bus. It wasn’t funny at all.
I’m still trying to understand what exactly it means, but it seems like a lot of fun. It’s been in the air for a while now, and I’ve got an invitation to come out for it later today. I just might be tempted to go oh, if I can figure out what costume to wear……
The Chinese Students’ Association did theirs yesterday, I think. I did see some people in witches’ and wizards’ costumes on my way home yesterday. I’m sure my spirit filled, tongue rolling brothers and sisters would have bound and cast the “devils” to the farthest end of the earth, had they been there. Lol.
What about those beautiful, black, furry cats that leisurely cross one’s path everytime here? Ha! The day a friend of mine in Abuja saw a cat in the engine of her car when she opened the bonnet, she refused to get into that car o. I can’t remember if she went back inside to get some anointing oil, but I do remember the “skibashing” she did that morning before we went to work. I remember because we went to the office late, of course.
Hmmn, different cultures, different perceptions.
I had a marketing assignment that needed my group members and I to go out and sample people’s opinions about a particular brand. We went to Tesco and Sainsbury’s and nipped down to Macdonalds for a well deserved snack…..
In Nigeria, I don’t think I would have been too enthusiastic about the survey. The memory of how area boys accosted my cameraman and I in Lagos during a similar outing is still very fresh in my mind (even after so many years!) Having been a television reporter before, I think I can say a bit about Lagosians attitude towards on-the-spot, in-the-street interviews. It’s an uphill task, trust me. If you don’t believe me, try and do a vox pop on the streets of Lagos……
But here, the response was ever so friendly, so pleasant and so willing to help. Even those who couldn’t wait told us they were in a hurry in a very polite way. It was a nice experience. And the old people were such darlings. There was this particular old man, who was waiting for a cab he’d called but was still willing to talk to us. Even when the cab arrived, he still waited a bit more to answer our questions. He even told us how he’d taken a bit of a fall in a neighbouring store and would be seeing the doctor the following day. The Palestinian girl in my group was the first to wish him all the best with his doctor- yeah, she’s a sweet girl too.
