Dear Morayo, You've just spent ages in bed telling me how much you love me, your Dad, Mrs Simpson (from pre-school), your Auntie, your cousins and The Man Dancing (this South American panpipe busker guy that you saw once about four months ago but that you haven't forgotten and that you look for every time … Continue reading Part Thirty Three: You’re still my blessing
Part Thirty Two: Do you want a drink?
Dear Morayo, In true British style, I'm going to start this entry in exactly the same way as my last- by talking about the weather. Summer has finally arrived here, and the UK has undergone its annual makeover. Anything above about 22 degrees Celsius, and the entire country has a personality transplant. Suddenly we are … Continue reading Part Thirty Two: Do you want a drink?
Part Thirty One: Don’t imagine monsters
Dear Morayo, It's Thursday, it's pouring with rain outside (obviously- it's now British Summer time!) and I've just dropped you off at pre-school. You now go two afternoons a week (that's six hours a week total!), and today is your second session. Rather than the classic clinging-to-Mummy-at-the-entrance, you skipped in excitedly after scratching on the … Continue reading Part Thirty One: Don’t imagine monsters
Part Thirty: Prajnaparadha, or a crime against wisdom
Dear Morayo, As time goes on, I'm slowly coming to the realisation that what happened with your Dad and the false imprisonment in a piss-drenched prison in a nation that was neither of our home countries (but had up until that point been our adopted 'second home') isn't where the trauma lies for me. Instead, … Continue reading Part Thirty: Prajnaparadha, or a crime against wisdom
Part Twenty Nine: Generators
Dear Morayo, Before I went to Nigeria that first time, I had expected at least 50% of the men there to be as tall and handsome, muscular and just plain fit as your Dad. I was wrong. I had lived in Libya, Yemen and Sri Lanka and thought I was prepared for the amount of … Continue reading Part Twenty Nine: Generators
Part Twenty Eight: On with the story
Dear Morayo, If you do ever end up reading this, you've probably reached the point where you're thinking 'God Mum, just get on with the story and stop faffing about!'- and of course you'd be absolutely right. It's 2021, and in a few months it will be eight years since your Dad disappeared that day. … Continue reading Part Twenty Eight: On with the story
Part Twenty Seven: Everything closed
Dear Morayo, It's difficult to know where to start writing when I've been putting it off for the best part of a year, but I'll give it a good try. You're two months shy of turning two, and we are in our third national lockdown since the beginning of the Coronavirus pandemic. It is only … Continue reading Part Twenty Seven: Everything closed
Part Twenty Six: That’s a ladder
Dear Morayo, The UK has slowly been easing out of lockdown for the last couple of months, and it couldn't have come sooner as far as you, me and your Dad are concerned. The funny thing is that I'm so good at denial, I don't even realise how much something is fucking with me as … Continue reading Part Twenty Six: That’s a ladder
Part Twenty Five: One year one month one week and one day
Dear Morayo, I'm just going to list everything you can say at the moment, so that we can read this together one day and you'll know how proud I've always been of your sassy forthcoming nature and your fondness for the chat- even if later on it causes rifts between us! Out and about: First … Continue reading Part Twenty Five: One year one month one week and one day
Part Twenty Four: The old ‘new normal’
Dear Morayo, We (and by we, I don't just mean your Dad and I, but the entire UK population and most of the globe at the moment!) are into week five of Coronavirus 'lockdown'. Only people with essential jobs (aka 'key workers') are allowed to go to work whereas everyone else has to work from … Continue reading Part Twenty Four: The old ‘new normal’
Dear Morayo 