Who sez?
'The BRC can't be spruced up with just a coat of paint.' Oh, yeah?
I just moved into my new room there. Well, come to think of it, it might be one of my old rooms... I have about four or five different BRC room numbers on some of my vintage shreddies.
It's a real beaut, a symphony in gloss enamel and sanded stipple with curtains the exact shade of sun-dried dog poo to complete the effect.
A new blanket in genuine, virgin polyester features red roses on a sh*t brown rosette on a pee-yellow field but once the lights are out at night it looks perfectly fine to me.
When I cranked up the water heater it proceeded to dribble all over the floor, almost spoiling one of my best pieces of West Virginia Samsonite (a cardboard carton tied with string). The plumber came, took a look, promised a replacement yesterday afternoon... I hope nothing happened to him, because I am still waiting.
The painter managed to miss a few spots while doing a comprehensive white gloss glob job on the bathroom louvered windows, so that I have sent the 'boy' off to the market to buy some razor blades. That should provide hours of gainful employment, just taking care of what a few minutes care would have prevented.
Just to make sure that I know it's West Africa, the painter left a big screw sticking out of the wall, all globbed over with sanded stipple but hardly noticeable... to a blind man. And he painted the pelmet without bothering to remove a drawing pin the last inhabitant had left behind. Nice one, that!
We later had a discussion in the bar about local workmanship, when we decided the way forward was to take the lid off a 5-gallon pail of white paint, set it in the middle of the room to be painted, insert a lit stick of dynamite and close the door. Instant redecoration!
Then last night, my first night in my new abode, some clown was out on Joy Avenue loosing off a couple of rounds from a 12-gauge shotgun around midnight. I must have words with that fellow. I wonder if he has e-mail?
The neighborhood is a bit down-market, yes. Between the bush bar across the way that plays loud music to the locals sat out in the street in their crappy little plazzie chairs as they 'chat' at 110 dBA and the local church headquartered in a former warehouse that features over-amplified, raving sermons, the odd armed robbery/murder and one thing and another, the Ajao Estate would seem to have seen better days.
The North Koreans seem to have moved out. I heard dogs barking last night. No stray cats, though, thanks perhaps to the guys selling 'suya' up at the top of Latif Salami Street.