Tag Archives: Oberoni

Ironed socks

23 Oct
My random life is like a cheesy, American comedy and you can really drop in on any episode for a new, entirely-unrelated-to-previous-storyline adventure.
I figured this is how I should start my blog. Slap bang in the middle of my latest excursion – Ghana.
 
So here I am, starting a page of my rants and raves, in rural Western Africa.
 

The Neighbourhood

Without delving into too much inane detail, I will say that I have been here for just under three weeks. It’s amazing and colourful and the people are very friendly. Being one of the few white faces for at least a few hundred kays, I am semi-famous. Ok fine, so it’s just the neighbour’s children who shout “oberoni oberoni” and wave madly when we leave the gate – it’s the small things…

We are really fortunate to be so well looked-after here. We have a butler. And he irons our socks. Our socks? (!!) The closest my clothes at home have come to that is accidentally snagging them in a hair straightener.

This is not home but it will do for a replacement for the next eight weeks. And the creaseless hosiery will help me get by.