It’s my last day in Cape Coast and I have just come back from my morning stroll (the hill was too steep for the brisk walk I was intending). It was more of a thinking walk, clearing my head on this cool morning where I could walk without the smell of car fumes polluting the air (there are too many cars in Accra, daaaaammnn).

So after a day of lamenting about the history, now back to the present.

I do this self-analysis every quarter, re-evaluate my life, see how I can change it for the better, and pray to the higher power to turn things right. Today has been a good day, as I look to all the greenery and open space, no TV, no music, just me and my thoughts.

So what have I learnt. Well this weekend, apart from the two shots of vodka on Friday, my alcohol intake has been zero. It has been good to detox, to not wake up on a Saturday morning with a hangover. I need to stop hanging out with the boys so much and start doing girlie stuff. Unfortunately of my girl friends, one has a family, the other is going back to Senegal, maybe I will try out some classes at the local gym, try and lead a healthier lifestyle.

Which leads me to my second point. What is nearly three and a half years ago when I arrived I was a size 8. I shot up to a size 12 and then down to a comfortable size 10. Today I am a rather uncomfortable size 10. While the bread and egg (or waakye) for breakfast, then the banku or kenkey for lunch does more than fill the gap I need to check myself. I am not one for the size 0 but for my height, a size 10 is good for me. Anything more than that and I start to look like an overweight gremlin. It was ok back in London where I could walk from my office in Blackfriars to Liverpool Street, but here in my concrete jungle I barely walk to my local spot so need to go back on the Weight Watchers for a while (my mum will complain that I’m “that my diet again” but oh well, I’m used to it).

I have also come to the realisation that I have tried so much not to turn into my mum, I’ve turned into my dad. All through my childhood he complained that he had a mortgage to pay, now that he’s retired, that has become my mantra. My mum got on his nerves nut he would not say anything apart from a sarcastic comment when it became too much, yep that’s me. He enjoys a good drink with the boys, yes. He could also be very moody, oh yeah. He has had a few indiscretions, as much as I have fought against it that’s me too. But to be fair to me, mine were because I just fall for the bad boy who even though I know are bad for me, subconsciously I think I will be different. Yeah need to stop that crappy way of thinking.

That leads me to the last point of the day. Although I have so many people around me, I do get lonely, I do want a companion. But not any old fool. I was looking at my friend and her husband and baby this morning at breakfast. I wouldn’t say I was jealous or envious because everybody and their time. But I did feel something missing. Her husband said he was going to cook lunch for us all. It made me think of my ex Freddy, the one I nearly married (what a waste of time that was). Freddy would think a man going to the kitchen to cook for his friends an abomination if I was there. At most he’d go and buy chinese and that’s only if I was sick. For alcohol though it would be flowing like water from the tap, but that’s where his domestic duties would end.

I remember the one time he cooked, it was a stew with sardines dumped in it. Now I have this (strange) phobia about sardines. I just can’t eat them, they look strange to me and the way they crunch in the mouth, I can actually throw up if I feel it in my mouth (tell me you don’t have a strange phobia and I will give you £100). He knew this, but as far as he was concerned he cooked and I should be grateful.

Now if I didn’t settle for this guy, I cannot just settle for any guy now. Me I’m not perfect, but I’m clean, a good cook, apart from my moods a nice person, a cracking smile, easy to talk to and fun to be around. I am not asking for a lot, he just needs to have a job, and love me. Being tall would be desirable but not essential (any futur kid needs to have a 50:50 chance of having vertical stability). Plus over the age of 33 and single (getting way too many offers from married men, like negro please, you stepped up to someone’s father with a case full of schnapps, cloth, bible etc, what makes you think I’m not worthy of that). Not asking for much. The journey continues in my quest…