Just in case you haven't yet been sledge-hammered by the British media - Kate and William will get married next year.
'Who?' I hear you ask. Tut-tut.
William, the son of Charles Windsor who is the son of the present queen of the UK, is marrying a 'commoner' and the sycophantic media are rubbing their hands in glee at the inevitable increase in profits, clamour for advertising space and airtime, the pundits blah-blahing for hours on irrelevancies e.g. types of thread being used to sew her wedding gown, the presents received from impoverished countries and so it will go on.
All nicely timed to distract the masses from the dire financial (fleecing?)/ situation of the country. We'll wave and smile and be encouraged to have street parties (yes, you mark my words, it will happen) and on that specially created bank holiday we'll sit with our little flags and bunting for hours on end as we admire the enormous event which we have paid for.
Dumb. That's what we are. With buzz words and phrases: austerity measures, tightening belts, recession, job losses and so on yet it is totally reasonable for the British people to spend hundreds of millions of pounds on a wedding. 'Yeah, but they make a lovely couple...'

If you are a believer you may not be aware that black atheists exist or even 'People of Colour' who do not  believe in god/s. As such we can feel isolated and cut off from the mainstream religious communities that provide emotional support when life gets tough.
As atheist (a- without, theist- god) I am so aware of the position I have found myself in as I make no bones about my non-belief. It is not something that I hide nor boast about. I don't see myself as especially clever, not even a great conversationalist but I let people know when necessary that I don't buy into any of it.
This has created some difficult situations, broken friendships, stilted conversations and excluded me from religious ceremonies, to some extent. In the main, the religious pity me as if I had done something deliberately to ensure I would never receive their 'truth'. Some have jumped back in shock that someone could be so stupid as to not believe in god. Whatever the reaction, however many prayers have been said, I am a staunch, firm believer that this life is for now and the so called heaven and hell is right here now. When we die we die. Full stop. There is no proof of anything else.
My life is richer, freer and I take life as it comes without expecting help from 'on high'.
The title of this post is 'Godless and Black' and a blog of the same name is one I would recommend you to visit, if you haven't already done so. The writer is fascinating and makes so many excellent points and is a seasoned writer. Visit him and let him know what you think. Godless and Black
We are not alone. More people are waking up to the fact that the religious texts are not infallible. Black people have lost so much in the name of a myth and yet we don't change course.
"Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth." In other words, don't fight against your oppressors, don't seek justice here on earth, just be meek and mild, keep praising whilst people take inhumane liberties against you and your generations to come. The only coffers that will be fattened do not belong to you.

Changing the subject completely: Here's something to soothe and mesmerise simultaneously. I love Ella's voice, she makes it all seem so effortless. She allows the song to just be. The musicians hold back without overkill.
 Just. Beautiful.

I signed my first contract today and I am pleased! I have also employed one member of staff and am sifting through the 48 others who have applied for positions in my company.
One thing has surprised me: People seem not to know how to complete CV's correctly, to complete an application form, I am shocked. The education system here seems split between the haves and the have nots.

A few of them submitted CV's and when I asked them to complete the detailed application form suddenly referees who were either friends or relatives suddenly didn't appear on the form.
So many people said they were 'obedient' or 'docile' - honestly, I'm not making it up! How sad that they see those traits as being positive in the job market. But we seem to be breeding clones who just do as they are told, which is necessary to an extent, but...
I don't want people like that around me. Some staff members will have far more skills, experience and abilities in certain areas than I have and I want employees to feel that they can contribute to and benefit from sharing knowledge as the business grows. I cannot pay a great deal of money to start but equally I refuse to pay people the minimum wage. Not really great for business but how can I feel good about paying people peanuts and expecting them to work and feed themselves and their families?

Anyway, it is early days. My marketing strategy is progressing well and although I have kept my expenditure to a minimum things seem to be going tickety-boo. So far.

My only real problem now is lack of sleep. It is affecting me more than I realised. I awoke this morning after only 4 hours sleep and lay prone on the bed thinking,  'I cannot physically move'. It took me over an hour to be able to muster the strength to release myself from the duvet and then stand - with my eyes closed throughout. All the while repeatedly muttering 'This is crazy!' It's this business.

I promise myself at least 7 hours of quality sleep each night now. Mmmm....

Whilst away some place across the big pond I received some news that a man I had worked with for many years had died. I was shocked and was thousands of miles away and wasn't due back for 2 weeks. Fortunately, the funeral was held on Friday and I managed to get my jet-lagged self to the various venues.
The deceased man and I had previously worked with a group of people who will forever be a big part of my life. Have you ever been amongst a group of people who were as different as chalk and cheese and yet somehow gelled as one big family, there for the highs and lows of life?

Here is an example of how close and loved people felt: one man had to retire from his work due to ill health. Let's call him Ahmed. He was the kind of person who would bore you to tears in meetings, the kind who wouldn't shut up and always turned a brief point into a 20 minute monologue! Ahmed was not one to take a hint that he had extended his speaking time and so verbal sledge hammers were employed to spare the ears of the meeting attendees. I had been away for many years and due to the recent death I was back in the fold again. Ahmed, I was told, even though he lived many miles away from his old workplace still found time/a reason to visit each week. He cared so much for the people, the job the warmth of these disparate people that he had to be in contact with them. I commented on it to an older Nigerian woman who was viewed with refeverence by all and she said, in a very soft voice, 'He's always welcome'. My heart melted. I understood why I was there, why I, myself, checked in with everyone now and again with the people who helped me to grow up. Who allowed me to be myself and showed real love and patience as I did so.

I recall a line manager saying to me that he cared about people there as if they were family, including me 'because we have a saying in Yoruba which means: he's a bastard, but he's our bastard'. Tolerance was mandatory. So was empathy, understanding and love. It seems very strange writing that about a workplace. Somewhere you are meant to go to check in and cash out. As a result of this experience I now find it almost impossible to be employed and prefer to work for myself. My only reason for leaving was due to luurrvve! (A long story - trust me!)

The man who died was the kind of person who always made you smile. A cheeky chappy who was married to a lovely woman and they had 2 lovely children together plus he had 2 older children who were close and loved by them both. Let's call him Andrew. He had an eye for the ladies but that was it, just an eye. He made jokes about the size of your bottom, or the swinging of hips or the cinched waist of a 'fine looking woman' in the office and never was there a murmur of 'sexual harrassment' - the women gave it right back and sometimes harder than he did! I know sexual harrassment is something that can have damaging consequences on people in the work place and I am not diminishing the pain it can cause, but in that place of work people were free to be themselves and if anyone stepped over the line a little private chat did the trick.
This in an environment which was like the United Nations - a multitude of races and cultures. Where organised lunches would see people bringing in fufu, barabrith, rice and peas and chicken, stuffed paratha, jolloffe rice, gulab jamun and pasta, amongst other dishes. Food from around the globe, made by the staff.

Andrew became ill at work and was sent to a hospital which, apparently, discharged him later that day and he fell ill again at home the same night, was returned to hospital in an ambulance and died within hours. His young wife was/is distraught. She has lost her best friend and she has pain oozing from every pore. It was difficult to even look at her at the funeral, her pain was so visible. She seemed to be permanently on the verge of collapse.
The church was packed, his work colleagues sang a song in tribute and his 10-year-old nephew sang Michael Jackson's 'You Are Not Alone' - confidently and beautifully. People broke down crying as they joined in on the chorus, myself included.
Through all the praying and calling to God I tried to put aside my atheist thoughts and focused on the fact that I was there because of my friend who had now died. The day was truly special and I was pleased that I was able to attend to offically celebrate his life and the joy that he brought into the lives of those he came into contact with.

It made me think about what would I want to happen when I die. As an atheist I previously thought that I didn't want any 'hacklings' (as my Father would say - meaning he didn't want any bother or fuss) and so if something had to be done then cremate me or chuck me in a large paper bag and let the animals eat me.
Now I think: I'll be dead! What do I care how someone chooses to dispose of my body or the ceremonies they choose to conduct because they feel the need to mark my death/life in some way? I couldn't care less. 'Whatever', as the Americans say.

I felt the need to purge my thoughts onto paper and so forgive the disjointed thoughts: just view them as a stream of conciousness, a collection of thoughts strung together after a few days of no sleep, jet lag and reflection.

For the Andrew's and Ahmed's of this world.