GAL FRIDAY: Change, football and wings
How times have changed.
The moody mendicant who frequents my favourite convenience store no longer asks me for change. He’s now requesting five dollars.
Yes, please – not one, or even two – but five whole dollars.
“Yuh have a five to gimme?” Well, friends I laid it on him. Planted it like I was never happier to do it, but in the back of my mind I wondered if this was really a sign of the times, or if he was just being cravacious. I slapped him a five and said, “Back hand side!”
He didn’t seem to think this playful gesture funny, so I left in a hurry. Running towards the car, the whacker man in my last article approached me. (This writing thing like it making me popular.)
“Gal Friday, I ain’t know I wake you with the weed whacker; I sorry, hear?” He’s invested in a cutlass, so he could silently debush in those wee hours of the morning.
Two mornings ago, my friend phoned me, crying. “It must be another woman; he’s not the same these days,” she snivelled. I had to get dressed and go to Lucky Horseshoe to find her beau.
Just as I thought: he was liming late with the boys after one of the games. Sorry, Sandy – you’re a WCW: a World Cup widow. Many women share the same predicament; thankfully, only for a short time.
I see it was real Kadooment in Bubba’s with this football thing, though. People foot up in the air like they name Messi or Maradona.
“You got the fever yet?” is what my colleagues keep asking me. Truth is, I does rub down in citronella every night. I real frighten for chikungunya . . . but it was the football fever to which they so cheerily alluded. I am not especially into the football, though; or “soccer”.
But, I’m a sucker for punishment, so I actually sat with the fanatics and watched a game. Not sure who was playing who, but just the entire mix of camaraderie and rivalry had me on a high.
“Raise Your Wings” is an ad I saw in my favourite portion of The Nation. The “classifieds” advertised a chicken pen for rent. I not getting into any flying fiasco, but I know some local farmers have their feathers real ruffled about this wing invasion.
I am neither a yard fowl nor a common one, so my opinions won’t change the price of poultry. But by now, I hope the pen got rented and that we show our local famers some more love.
Well, Monica Ince and Peggy Ward, I didn’t get to go to BRA-SIL. Thanks for the caps, but no trip for me. I’m not going to fly off the handle or anything. Coca-Cola people, I will still always love you; but not more than I love the sweet, black elixir that you produce.
Give me a Coke any day; and I am happy. Cheers, folks…I going to get some hot wings from Baxters Road.
Veoma Ali is an author, actor, broadcaster, advertising exec and, most importantly, a karaoke lover.