Stories have been told of women who boost their social image by writing love letters to themselves. Others buy and send themselves gifts, delivered in the office

Last week as I watched news at supper time, I was shocked when President Uhuru read to the international criminal court the riot act as he rejected parallel trial with his deputy William Ruto. So authoritative was the President that I had to stop chewing the piece of fish and bolus of ugali I had just introduced in my mouth, to pay maximum attention. Forget power vacuum, the President missed his father’s memorial service, now they wanted him to miss the big bash — Kenya at 50? Clearly, they are dreamers! However, as much as the President is psyched up for the December 12 shindig, I’m sorry folks, it might not take place after all! I plan to interrupt it by launching a campaign against hunger and protesting VAT. And this, perdon the cliche, you can take it to the bank!

When I cleared campus I pound the tarmac — daily, job hunting. So daunting was this work of job-hunting that when I got one, the first thing I wished for — in honour of my hustling — was a street or two being named after me!

Despite my suspicion that weekends are made in china — they don’t last long, I always enjoy them. The last one was worse for it found me unwell. As I stared at the ceiling during my bed rest, nutty things began germinating on my small mind — suing the Government of Kenya.