The Arik Experience: Goodbye London, Hello Lagos!

39,000 feet above ground and bored as a scarecrow in a deserted field. The inflight entertainment is playing up so I can’t watch any of the movies on offer and thanks to my die hard resolve to wash my hair before leaving for the airport, I didn’t have enough time to download any movies to my iPad.

I’m on an Arik flight, first time ever. Snob that I am, I was apprehensive about trying out the new airline on the block but na condition make crayfish bend. My funds were not ripe enough for British Airways and as for that Virgin, don’t get me started on their extortionate fares.

I must admit, this plane is impressive. The seats in economy (promotion cometh!) have more leg room than I know what to do with. You long ones would be pleased.

Fot those of you that travel with all your worldly possessions, you’ll be pleased to know that be baggage allowance is 32kg. In this day and age, that’s stupendously generous. God bless them

The cabin crew were a lot scruffier than im used to seeing…not that i was bothered bt their appearance. Just a random observation. They are also as rude and abrupt as any others but unlike their colleagues on other airlines, lack the ability to be politely so. The ability to insult while grinning must be  added to their training syllabus. That said, Nigerians are demanding and can test the patience of a dead man. Our diva antics are out of this world ridiculous.

The plane was taxiing and a woman was still yapping away on her phone.

Air Hostess: “Madam! Please turn off your phone, we are about to takeoff!”
Woman: “Ha ha! You will give me the full gist when I come. What of that guy from before?”
Air Hostess: “Madam, turn off your phone!”
Woman: “I’m already on the plane, we will soon take off.”

Even my patience was tested. It took…

Sorry, I was just interrupted by the sound of the most ridiculous attempt at an American accent I’ve ever heard. I’m not a member of the “thou shall not speak fone” brigade but if thou must, thou must do it well.

…the air hostess raising her voice to deafening levels for the woman to obey. Terminating the call, she calmly addressed the hostess.

“It’s like something is wrong with you. Did someone annoy you before you came to work this evening?”

LMAO! Some human beings are just not normal.

The elderly man two seats to my right has spent the last half hour moaning about how sub standard the service on this flight is. He is especially upset that he was only given a tiny  glass of red wine.

“Why can’t they give us those little bottles other airlines give? Why are they rationing the thing, is it communion?! I need to get tipsy so I can sleep well.”

The woman next to him is irritated because the crew did the coffee round before serving the tea she was desperate for.

“I don’t know why they can’t serve the two together. Is it not two hands they have?”

If I had a pound for every time she has hissed in the last two hours, I’d have enough money to pay the £300 difference and hop on Mr Branson’s plane.

Another man in the association of moaners is upset because he doesn’t like the selection of movies on offer. “When I flew last weekend, it was the same set of movies, this weekend too, the same.”

The person behind me is snoring like he is propelling the engines of this plane. How is a girl supposed to get some sleep when no one will shut up?!

The food is WACK! My friend IB had told me stories about how nice the jollof rice on the flight is but this jollof wannabe I am eating is like poison. The bread roll is rock hard and this cheesecake isn’t worth a mention. The only edible thing is the salad. Sigh.

Arik have a reputation for taking African timing to another level but thankfully, my flight left on time. I’m grateful for small mercies.

Time to sleep. Don’t know what internet access will be like out there so I’m not holding my breath. Blogging while I’m there is highly unlikely…or maybe I’m just a lazy fart.




Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I am back!!!

I am thoroughly ashamed of the disappearing act I pulled on you. Lots of stressful and exciting things going on in my world but you’ll hear all about them in the coming days and weeks. That’s right, this isn’t a one off appearance, I am here to stay. And so shall it be.

The last few days I’ve been cracking my skull trying to think of the perfect way to get back into blogging and today my blogger friend SingleNigerian provided me with the solution to my dilemma by tagging me in the 11 Things what-cha-ma-call-it. Single Nigerian, diva that he is, decided the standard questions weren’t good enough for him and decided to create his own version. Waila, saint that she is, has decided to answer both the original and customized version. I suspect it’s her way of upping the word count of this post.

Here goes!

  1. Last book I read…Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
  2. If I could listen to any song for the rest of my life, right now it would be… Cry of the Broken by Hillsong
  3. Countries visited aside from my awesome country Nigeria… all the countries in the UK, Ireland, USA, Spain, France, Italy, Portugal, Germany, Gambia, Morocco…not nearly enough for my liking!
  4. If I could have any job in the world with all the resources I need… I would be a singing songwriting guitar and piano playing multi platinum album scoring author of best selling fiction novels.
  5. Why do I blog… I do it to develop the habit of writing regularly…and I’m currently failing…badly
  6. How old am I… I am 27 years and 11 months old. Start buying my birthday presents!
  7. My favourite part of the opposite sex…would be the heart. Nothing’s more attractive than a man capable of loving and expressing love.
  8. When was the last time I had relations?… Aproko, mind your business!
  9. My least favourite food… Moin-Moin (Nigerian). Yuck.
  10. Do I have any pets...Nope
  11. One thing I have been dying to tell you…I start a new job on Monday *dancing*

The Diva’s customized version…

  1. Who started this thing biko?…How am I supposed to know. No be you tag me?!
  2. What drives/motivates/pushes you in life…God. Dude pushes me like nothing and no one else can.
  3. If you could pick one place on earth to be at the moment you answer this question, who/where will it be…Bora Bora!!! (I hope my gentleman friend is reading this)
  4. What is your favourite blog, top blog online (Don’t lie, God is watching you)… WailaCaan.com! *carries face*
  5. If God were to close his eyes for 10 hours and grant you a hall pass, what would you do with it?… I would find a girl I hated in high school and beat her to a pulp *angel face*
  6. What makes you happy? (If you tell me God, I will swear for you. I said what, not who)… Indomie noodles with scotch bonnets!
  7.  Do you have a daughter? If yes, how old… Not yet
  8.  Would you let your daughter marry my son… If he will be handsome and rich, yes.
  9. What is the one thing you wish for more than anything else… That I fulfill my potential in every area of my life.
  10. At a scale of Hulk to worker ant, what do you do when you are angry… I go eerily quiet. My anger very quickly dissipates so I’ve learnt to ride it out in silence.  It’s safer for everyone.
  11. What is your favourite animal…I hate all animals equally and with all my heart.

That’s me done!

Hold up. Almost forgot to apologise for the premature death of the Trust Series. I’ve lost my mojo on that one. There’ll be better things to come so don’t give up on me just yet.

Love, hugs and a million kisses,



Death, a rude reminder of man’s mortality. 

It sucks but die, we must.

I lost someone, it knocked me for six.

We had our issues, the source of my grief.

Life is short.

Too short not to be open and honest with the people around us.

Too short not to iron out disputes, settle misunderstandings.

To short not to paint our visions, live out our dreams.

Too short to sit around twiddling our thumbs.

Too short to live in the past, neglecting the present.

Too short to live each day in fear and despair.

Too short not to laugh and enjoy living.

Too short to lose faith, give up on giving.

Too short not to embrace the things that matter most.

Too short to turn your back on blood; your flesh, your bone.

Life is short.

What do you die leaving?

What memories, for the hearts, here still beating?

Sleep in peace, we’re no longer at war.

I’ll remember you, without your scabbard and sword.

It’s His Birthday, MARRY HIM!!!

My friend CrawCraw is one of those people who try as you may, you cannot hate. Guys think she’s a breath of fresh air, girls want to hang out with her and parents wish they gave birth to her.  Every parent bar my mother, The General, that is. The General’s heart overflows with gratitude to God that CrawCraw isn’t her daughter. If she were, she wouldn’t be able to marry her off to my brother G, I mean, that would be incestuous.

CrawCraw and The General get on like a house on fire. She is the only friend I have who calls The General every now and again to check up on her. I would be worried but I know I’m irreplaceable. I may have my issues but it’s not easy to discard a child who even a blind man can tell is yours. That is the only thing I have over CrawCraw and the reason my inheritance remains safe.

 The General is no fool, pikin wey resemble goat no be goat, na pikin. She knows CrawCraw can never be her biological daughter so she is willing to settle for daughter-in-law and has launched a campaign to get CrawCraw and G to the altar.

Over the holidays, CrawCraw was being her usual self entertaining MamaGuy (my nan), my uncle, aunt and The General. MamaGuy asked my aunt ( in Urhobo) who CrawCraw is and she told her. The General, hearing her response, saw a golden opportunity and piped up.

“Waila’s friend? She is G’s wife! CrawCraw you will marry G, won’t you?!”

CrawCraw’s eyes flew open like a window in a hurricane and she won’t admit it but I tell you, those eyes lit up! That was when I clutched the wall for support. Suddenly I started remembering random moments; G’s frequent inquiries about CrawCraw’s welfare, CrawCraw frequent inquiries about G’s welfare, G teasing CrawCraw, CrawCraw pretending she can do without G’s attention. It all made sense!

At first it seemed like a crazy idea but after giving it a second thought, I can see it working. If CrawCraw marries G, I won’t have to worry about getting along with my sister-in-law. CrawCraw is very family orientated so I will be able to spend G’s money without his wife pulling a face like rotten okra. My nieces and nephews would have a decent chance of having hair and there would be someone to teach them that walking around with skin like cracked leather is not a good look…not even on cows.  

G turns 30 today and is by Nigerian standards, a prime candidate for marriage. He comes from a good home, has a good job, is Christian and a credible future candidate for the Nigerian Presidential seat. He is also a British citizen so Downing Street is a plausible alternative, albeit with slimmer financial prospects. Plus let’s not kid ourselves, that red kpali is hella attractive!

So Mina, WILL YOU MARRY HIM?!?!?! It’s his birthday, go on, say yes!

G, you can thank me later.



Greetings From…Good Ol’ Blighty

Yes people, I have returned from sunny Nigeria and with a tan too. I may have to invest in some bleaching cream to get my complexion back to normal.

I had a wonderful time in the motherland and was a little sad as my cousins and I journeyed to the airport. We spent the journey rocking to P-Squared’s ‘The Invasion’ album which I’d never heard before. I very quickly lost my desire to remain in the country thanks to the chaotic state of Murtala Mohammed International airport. My flight was grossly overbooked so only people who had checked in online were guaranteed a seat on the flight. Thankfully I was one of them.  There were many angry people at the BA check-in desk I tell you. I spent over an hour trying to get through security and there isn’t a word to express how frustrated I was, especially as the delay could have been avoided if the people running the airport had one brain cell between them all. The guy standing behind me cursing and whining in his ‘Igbotic’ American accent didn’t help matters. I wanted to tell him to shut-up so badly!

Anyway, spending time with family and friends is always good.
My cousin Ruth is a star I tell you. She spoilt me silly and if I could give a great big smacker on the lips, I would! Amongst other things, she made a last minute dash to the market to buy me a Ludo board after the one @SingleNigerian bought me got broken in transit from Abuja to Lagos. Sadly, the replacement she bought got broken too and was subsequently confiscated by security staff at Murtala Mohammed airport. Something about not allowing glass on the plane. I could have cried I tell you. I am now the disappointed owner of four dice and two sets of ‘Ludo people’ as my friend Stinkus calls them.  I guess Ludo and I just weren’t meant to be.

My other cousin, whose name I have changed from EverReady to Judas, abandoned me because of a woman. See what woman does to man?! Judas and his fiancé, IscariBaby, got engaged on New Year’s Eve. I congratulate the happy couple and I’m deliriously happy for them but make no mistake, I will have my revenge!

My freshly braided hair is a massive hit with the guys in my office. One of them went as far as declaring it the best they’ve ever seem my hair. I wasn’t that wowed by it but after the many compliments, there’s a new swag in my step. *wink*

You all know I’m an avid reader and last year I embarked on an exploration of books by African writers. On my trip, I picked up 15 new books. I was like a woman possessed and Judas almost lost his eyeballs when we got to the till and the cost of my madness was totalled. In my defence, I was possessed! Blame it on the spirit. I can’t wait to get through my stash. I will post a picture of my stash soon as well as the titles and authors so that those of you who want to, can get ahead of me. Waila Reads will be very active this year.

Now I’m back and no longer in holiday mode, I have to start thinking about what’s next for Waila Caan. In the meantime, expect random posts and get ready to debate as I have plenty of scenarios for us to hash out.

By God’s grace, this year I will stop procrastinating and write my debut novel. Any Amen’s to that?

Lunch is over, must return to work. I have over a hundred emails to sift through and plenty of bugs to test.

Happy Tuesday!




Happy birthday to my darling Stinkus! God willing, we will grow old together, live to see each other achieve all our visions and dreams. Love you much!

Happy New Year & Greetings From My Motherland

Happy New Year folks and greetings from my motherland!

I’ve been in Nigeria for the last four days and it’s been good so far. It’s a full house with my mother, grandma, uncle, two aunts and cousin. It’s been great bonding with them all and dodging the million and one chores they have for me to do. Nigerian parents have doctorates in fagging aka sending people on errands. It is unthinkable that they will reach for a remote control on a table in front of them when they have a child who is asleep, that they can awaken to pass it to them.  Their hands it seems, are only good for counting money, transferring food from hand to mouth and dishing out slaps. Thankfully, my cousin is much younger than I am so she gets sent on the bulk of the errands. Every now and again, I feel sorry for her and take on some of them lest the poor girl crumbles under the weight of their unending demands.

Relative to Lagos, Abuja is a quiet city. Not much happens here, not unless you count bombings as entertainment . It’s deeply saddening that any human being will choose to take the life of another. May the souls of all those who lost their lives in the Christmas Day bombing rest in peace.

On a lighter note, I met one of my twitter cum blogger buddies, John Doe aka SingleNigerian aka JD,in the flesh. It was exciting I tell you, especially as he tweets and blogs anonymously. He had to bribe me (with a plate of fish and chips) not to reveal his identity.  He took me to the Arts and Crafts village in Abuja and but for thoughts of my monthly travel card which I’m yet to buy, I’d have bought out the entire village. If you’re a fan of wooden and bronze sculptures and leather artefacts, you’ll love it. Their prices are geared at foreigners though so you have to haggle like crazy to get anything resembling a bargain. Thanks to my excellent display of self control, all I bought was an Ayo chest. Ayo for those in the dark, is a native Yoruba game…I think.  JD promised to find me a Ludo board as well. I’m looking forward to giving my grandma, our family Ludo champion, a good beating when it arrives. Someone needs to take her down a peg or two.


We all went to mass this morning and I tell you, some things never change. My mother got the entire household up three hours before mass was to start. After threatening showers of fire and brimstone on anyone who wasn’t ready on time, she was the last to shower, get dressed and the reason we were late. When she finally emerged from her room, it was with a frown on her face and stinging words for anyone she found sitting and waiting patiently in the living room.

“What are you sitting there for? Can’t you see the time?!”

Yes we can mother but can YOU?!

I love my mother I tell you, the woman is a character.  Henceforth she will be referred to as ‘The General’ on this blog.

Ladies and gentlemen, my stomach is currently doing back flips; I feel sick as a dog. I’m off to find ways to quieten the beast…if you know what I mean.

Happy New year again and may the grace and peace of God be with you today and always.




Good Times!!!

Hey guys!

I can’t describe in words how happy I am that the Abortion Series is a wrap. It’s been very challenging and I’ve been through the mill emotionally and mentally. I know I took my precious time about it and for that, I apologise. I loved writing every story and researching the subject and will forever be grateful to and proud of those who had the courage to share their experiences. When I asked people to send in stories, I was convinced no one would respond. I didn’t think anyone would trust me with something so personal. I know I sound like a broken record but I really am humbled that they did.

What’s next? Not another series! Lol. It’s back to my random musings for now. 

Last night, my oldest, dearest and best friend got engaged! Whoop whoop! I’ve watched my Stinks grow from a scraggly looking skinny kid to a stunning woman. The girl inspires my socks off and coming from someone as hard to impress as I am, that’s saying a lot. I’m absolutely loving this phase of my life. All my friends are meeting and settling down with good godly men. I can’t wait to see what the future has in store for us all. Stinks and T-Baby, isn’t it funny how God orchestrates our lives even when we are unaware of it?! I am deliriously happy for you both and can’t wait to tell THAT story!!! He he.

In other news, I’m stuck in good old London for the holidays. I refuse to let my holiday waste so I’ve decided I’ll explore the length and breadth of the city. If you live in or are familiar with London, what are your favourite haunts? Tell me! Tell me! By the time I’m done exploring this town, the town will know I explored it.

My department at work has been nicknamed Tinsel Town by our ‘Bah! Humbug!’ colleagues. Everyone in the department has bits of tinsel hanging from their monitors. My tinsel is the cutest though! It’s green and white and has red bows and bells hanging from it. I sit a bit of a distance from my team and in the past, had to scream across the room to get their attention. These days, I just ring one of the bells I detached from my decoration! It drives them crazy and they keep vowing not to respond but their reflexes fail them. Muhaha! I suspect that before this festive season is over, I will be slapped. Fun times! I love my colleagues, they make getting up in the morning easier.

That’s it from me for now. I’m off to ring my bell. I need to know if anyone fancies making me a cup of tea!


The Abortion Series: The Birthday Girl’s Story

               I love birthdays and when I woke up on the morning of my 19th birthday, I thought it was the best day ever; lots of calls, messages and prayers in the normal African tradition. I decided to miss my A ‘level Physics class, after all, it was my birthday. My boyfriend came over laden with gifts, cards; the works. He planned to take me out so I was really excited. I started to get ready and we got carried away. We had been together for about 4 months and had never slept together. We did everything else but were very careful but that day (my birthday) things got out of hand. He coaxed, loved and cajoled till we were having sex. It was over very quickly and as soon as we were done the reality of what had happened hit me and I knew it, I just knew I was going to be pregnant. Exactly eleven days later I missed my period and it all began.
               I waited a few more days and lo and behold my period still hadn’t come so I bought a pregnancy test kit from boots. I bought 2 actually, just in case one was wrong. I got home, peed on the stick and watched a pink line gradually surface. My heart sank. I tried again, same result. I started panicking. I called my boyfriend and told him. He asked if I was sure, I said yes. He told me to come over. I bought more pee sticks and made my way over, all the while, shaking. It was another physics day so I was happy to skip school, don’t really know why I bothered with the subject, I’d never liked it.
               When I got to his place, we talked quietly in his bedroom (he lived with relatives). I peed on another stick and brought the result to him. Clear as day, I was pregnant. We couldn’t get married, still too young. He was Christian and I, Muslim and both our parents would have killed us. I remember thinking about people who had died from septic abortions but I thought “surely that won’t happen in the UK?!”
               We agreed to have an abortion.
I went to my GP and told him I was pregnant and wanted to have an abortion. He was angry. He’d been my GP from birth, knew my whole family and even advised me on becoming a medical doctor and what subjects to do at A ‘level. He wasn’t happy and managed to make me think the NHS would say no. I was terrified! No one could find out. I got morning sickness and couldn’t eat anything. I thanked God my mum was out of town at the time because she would have known. Well, the letter came through and the NHS said yes.
               It was morning, the day, the day had come. I was really nervous and thought I’d be sick. They didn’t let him come in with me. The procedure was explained, I filled some forms, signed and was wheeled into the theatre. I remember telling the anesthetist to make sure I wasn’t carrying twins because I’d heard a story about someone aborting one child while a second, undiscovered child lived. He smiled, nodded and asked me to count backwards from 10. I woke up a little while later and realised I was back in the ward. It was all over…or so I thought.
               On the outside I was fine but inside of me, the grief was only just beginning. I couldn’t tell anyone, friend or foe. Every time I saw a pregnant woman, I wondered. Every time I saw a single mother I thought her a much better person than I for having the courage to have her child. For years after, I couldn’t have conversations about abortions, couldn’t bring myself to utter the word. It took a few years before I was able to cry and when I did, I cried for hours.
               I have since become a Christian and I’m grateful that God forgives. Forgiving myself however, was the harder bit. I finally got there about 8 years after the event but, till now, I still ask myself ‘what if?’ and ‘how old?’ amongst other things. At the time it was normal to have an abortion but no one told me about the guilt afterwards. I really wish someone had schooled me right.


This is a non-fictional account of  The Birthday Girl’s experience. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again. That you and others would trust me with your stories is incredibly humbling. You are whole my friend; mind, body, soul and spirit.

This is the penultimate story in the series. There’s one more (fictional) to come so please stay tuned!



The Abortion Series: Mr Anonymous’ Story

The day started like any other; morning came, met me lazing around and left. Late afternoon met me fed and doing the dishes. Just as I finished, my phone rang. Spotting the callers ID, I groaned. I hadn’t spoken to her in a month and after our last conversation had hoped I’d never again have to. I answered the call and looking back, wish amongst other things, that day had turned out differently.
      “Hey. What’s up?”
      “I’m pregnant and I think it’s yours.”
In one seemingly eternal minute, my mind went back to the first and only night we’d spent together. Our relationship had officially ended two weeks before. She was supposedly a virgin and I hadn’t planned to sleep with her but in 30seconds of madness, I planted life in her.
      I remembered the last time I’d spoken to her. She’d called the day before worried because she’d missed her period and didn’t know what to do. She called that day to say it wasn’t what she’d thought; it was only an infection. I remember freaking out and falling ill, my sickness induced by the thought that I too was infected.
      I remembered why the relationship ended. She’d wanted to get married and I hadn’t, not to her. All the time we were together, I suspected her of cheating. I lied, told her I never wanted to get married and she vowed to change my mind.
      All this I remembered in a minute.
I asked her what next. She said she didn’t know. I told her I wouldn’t support an abortion, she said she wasn’t considering it. 9 months passed, months of arguments, unwavering looks of disappointment from parents and family, months of external pressures on me to marry her. I stuck to my guns, I couldn’t marry her. If the relationship didn’t work out, then marriage most definitely wouldn’t. Marrying the man that got you pregnant for want of a ‘better’ option or marrying a woman for responsibility sake, is erroneous at best. Those months were extremely difficult for me…but considerably more so for her.
      At times I considered encouraging her to terminate the pregnancy but in the end, decided to let God make that decision for us. This may sound crazy but miscarriages happen, people give birth to stillborn children, babies die every day. If the baby wasn’t meant to be, it wouldn’t be. I couldn’t shake the thought that if we had an abortion, we might never again have the chance to be parents. Ever. Being pregnant and unmarried was one mistake. I didn’t want to make another by having an abortion.
      I am single, she is now married and has a daughter in addition to the son we share. A recurring ‘issue’ in my relationships is my son. It’s a massive consideration for any woman looking to spend the rest of her life with me. I’ll be honest, it has crossed my mind how much less complicated my life would be if I’d encouraged her to abort. Yet, however I think about it, it would have been the wrong thing to do.
      I have friends who regret making that decision. They see little kids and can’t escape the question, “what if?” Funny thing is, the same thing happens to me. I see little kids and ask myself, “what if?” For all the regrets I have, the decision to have my son isn’t one of them, for when life presents itself at its most hopeless, hearing him say “I love you daddy” always, always brightens my day.


This is a factual account of Mr Anonymous’ experience and I’d like to thank him for sharing his story with us. Thanks buddy!



A Quick (ish) Catch Up

Hey guys,

How are you all doing?

Am I the only one that can’t believe how quickly the year has gone by?! I vividly remember exactly how I started this year and I’m amazed at how much has gone on. I stopped making New Year’s resolutions a long time ago because as you know, they don’t count for toffee. Thankfully, I have achieved a few of the things I was quietly hoping to and even though I’m not quite the person I hoped I would be, I’ve made progress.

I hope you’ve been enjoying the abortion series? I’ve had quite a few messages on twitter and via email and I thank you all for your kind words, constructive criticisms and encouragement. I’ve got one more story to publish to wrap up the series and then it’s on to the next challenge. Heaven knows what that one will be but I’m looking forward to it. If you have any ideas about what you’d like to read about, please send me a message and I’ll do my best to tackle as many as I can.

I’ll be setting up a Facebook page in the next few days so if you are on Facebook, please look out for the Waila Caan page and like it! I’m also on Twitter and my twitter handle is @WailaCaan. It has taken a while but I’ve finally managed to maintain some level of consistency with my tweets.  All things are indeed possible. My email address is wailacaan@gmail.com so please, however you choose, send in your ideas. I could do with inspiration.

In other news, I have a flu and it’s doing my head in. I’ve had a constant headache for the last 48hours, my nose is blocked, the sneezes are epic and this chesty cough is the stuff of dying men. I look a hot mess. I find blowing my nose a pointless exercise (the more you blow, the more it clogs up) so I’m one of those annoying snifflers. I must have really irritated the woman sitting next to me on the train this morning because she dug in her bag, pulled out a pack of tissues and offered me one. I say offered but really, it was an order. Her eyes said “girl if you don’t take this tissue and blow your nose I will slap you silent.” I couldn’t tell her I had tissues in my bag and pockets so I cheesed like she was offering me a scarce commodity and thanked her.

In other news, something has been bugging me lately. I’m really worried about the power of celebrity as fuelled the media. They have become gods and goddesses, idols, to our generation, propagating and reinforcing warped morals and ideals. I wonder what the Church is doing while all this is going on. We need to get out there and give people, young kids and the youth in particular, an alternative. They need to know that there is another way and that there is more to life than nudity, sex, alcohol, drugs and materialism.  I fear that I might have to lock my children up in a room and only let them out to play in the snow when it falls. If this is the world they will be born into, only God can help them.

Anyway, back to work I must go. Please don’t forget to send in your ideas.