A Trip Down Memory Bliss

Tuesday, Bubu and I decided to go down to our uni – Babcock, to see about getting our certificates and a reference. I was just happy for the day off. Alas, I didn’t even get any of the extra sleep cos the instant my sister got up and started moving about around 5, I was ruined. She left not long after, and instead of going back to bed like an intelligent person, I decided to try and see if I could convert her South Park DVD into iPod format.

I met up with Bubu at about past 10. Okay, sorry, what I meant was, I left my house after many accusatory calls from Bu at past 10. She was waiting to see someone at Obalende, and finding her location was a quest in patience. It was sweltering, and I admit I got there a little peeved, cos I knew that we won’t be able to make it back in time. And I was hoping I would… so I could possibly see Certain Som1. The annoyance soon became a mild acceptance.

We headed off at about 12, Bu driving, stopping to buy Pizza at the Mobil on the Expressway. Just like we used to back in school, after a joyous weekend at home, or whatever magical place we would have found ourselves spending the night, most usually Bubu’s crib. The ride to school was ridiculously long, and during the drive we both noticed the abnormal heat while guzzling pizza and mountain dew and reminisced about how it seemed to always be bloody hot in Babcock. Even when it rained. As far as most people were concerned, that school was cursed with its own special climate. It didn’t help that there was this urban legend that said the school was built on an evil forest against some witch’s advice or some crap. I personally didn’t understand how all them girly-girls would succeed in making it to class from our distant halls with their powdered faces intact and shine free while I was mopping up buckets of sweat from just half the distance.

We got to school and did a little making up. After all, if YOU got a chance to go back to a place where you had been made to wear shoulder-length, dark hair, minimal make-up, no jewelry and SKIRTS for 4 years, won’t you try to make an impression??? To be honest, we were still wearing skirts cos BU officials can be psychotic like that, and most likely won’t give us the time of day if we looked so ‘horribly indecent’. Bubu looked dashing in her own right, what with her red-black hair. We made a point of prancing around the place and reveling in our conspicuousness. 🙂 It was funny to remember the many demerit point I gathered for my nails, or an unintentionally low necked top, or even a bit too much armpit showing (yes, they gave our boys such little credit).

The more we walked around school, the more we remembered all those afternoons in between classes, how we would carry our laptops and base ourselves in the cool confines of the cyber café and download as many songs as we could with our time or the engineering lab… assuming a class wasn’t going on in there. The school’s actually looking better these days, and they’re actually (FInaLLY) tarring the remaining roads, but neither of us had the energy to reach the hall area.

An average day in our final year of school was quite simple. Wake up late (cos in those last days we campaigned for no more 7am classes), took our sweet time, unless of course it was a Tuesday or Thursday or maybe Sunday when they were serving Pap/Custard/Oats with moin moin/akara/plantain; in which case we’d be up and out of the hall by 8 to get to caf before the 9am closing time. Yes, we were caf ninjas (considering the other options – provisions or the crap they sold in the mini grocery, I think we did well). However, if it wasn’t a breakfast day, we’d rendezvous (by we, I mean, me and my posse, Bubu and Kitty) at the junction that connected all three of our separate halls, and buy a nice cold cup of ‘lemonade’, and then try to finish it and chew up all the ice before we actually got to the class. There, we’d proceed to sit somewhere in the middle. You see, the front was for what we dubbed the F.R.V.Ps – Front Row Village People (those that got to class on time ALL the time, asked all the questions and did all the stuff front row people did), and the back was for the really unserious/unbothered/late people. I take pride in the fact that I was okay. We’d then listen to mp3s/browse for free on my phone/copy notes/maybe listen/draw(in my case)/gist/receive calls/finish our lemonade/sleep for the rest of the class, depending on the lecture and the lecturer. We were known for always doing the above in class, and once one of our lecturers banned us from sitting together. Oops. The way I wrote that, we may sound unserious, but I we weren’t BAD, our notes were always (kinda) complete, and our attendance was great, and we did stuff we were supposed to, besides, I like to think of myself as less theory and more practical. 🙂

After class, we’d keep on doing what we were doing DURING class, or go browse or go to the halls to eat/sleep/play games. In the evenings, we’d pretty much get out late for worship, and towards the end, Bubu and I started stabbing them altogether (my attendance card for worship was a disgrace) or perambulating around school till we got caught and went to the nearest worship center. After worship, our larger posse would slowly assemble and we’d usually proceed to make a noisy, happy nuisance of ourselves till 9.30, when we had to get to the halls again. Good times. Viva once remarked that she didn’t know how we all got out with 2.1s. To be fair, we read when it was necessary. In terms of the course I did, I consider myself, better than some people. At least I can get around a computer (even if I always seem to suffer from viruses and spyware). There were of course, the constant clashes with authority, the changing to an ‘illegal’ skirt while walking to class (I was a pro), the cooking (oh, that alone needs an entire book chapter) but aren’t all these things what University is made of? Even in a touchy, self-righteous Seventh-Day Adventist one? I could go on all day. Maybe one day I’ll write about our very first hall in 100 level. That was slumming at its most adventurous.

But to finish my original story, we did in fact, not get our certificates. Apparently, because the school changed its logo (last year…cough), it won’t be ready till beginning of next year. What??? Oh well, at least I only have to work 4 days this week.

Advertisements

10 thoughts on “A Trip Down Memory Bliss

  1. lol … this is quite hilarious. Doesn’t sound much different from my Boarding school experiences. You know I saw your site in IE (I always use firefox) for the first time today. Didn’t realize it looked that great. Your template is so beautiful … I think you should try and make it work in firefox. How’ve you been though?

  2. @fantasy queen
    It’s the ultimate irony of life, my dear.

    @ tayo
    I’ve been good. Thanx! Saw pics of ur gig in Ghana.
    I’ve been rackin my brain about the Firefox thing, and the only thing i can think of is starting from scratch, a concept i havent gone down to cos there’s no time. Maybe u could helpme out!?!??

  3. Hey, bn an avid reader of ur blog since i found it some days ago. Nice design, beautiful wirting style, lovely choice of words, but yeah but, (u knew it was comin ryt?) D navigation leaves much to be desired 😦
    Cld u do sumthing abt dat pleaseeeeeee (Puppy eyes)

    Takia gurl.

  4. @anonymous
    Well thanks! What exactly is the problem with the navigation… ( I know the site has a lot of kinks to be ironed out, but… just point that one out ot me wil ya?)

  5. Sorry I took this long to reply, got swamped wiv sturvs.
    Its mighty diff getin out of a page to d previous page.Ryt now i’m tyin to find my way forward from this page. Its easy to read past posts but not the more recent ones.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s