The fact that I opened up last week’s installment with the description of my life as “surreal”, makes it hard to come up with words for the other night.
Basically, this charity called WhizzKidz agreed to get some money for me to have a new wheelchair, and found the dough from a music rights company called PPL. They were well excited because on my application I wrote how much I’m down with the hip-hop, represent represent. They asked me to go and meet them on Thursday evening, to hand the cheque over and take a photo.
So me and the Mumsie were getting a bus into central London, thinking we were going to be meeting with one or two people from each of the two companies, maybe a half an hour job. When we arrived at the office, it was a well nice building (posters on the walls and everything); we get in the lift upstairs, walk through the double doors…
There were 50 people standing there. Just casually having a party. At first I presumed this was just completely unrelated:
“What’s going on tonight?”
“Oh yeah, everybody’s been really excited about meeting you!”
“Yes this is all for you!”
I was so overwhelmed, which was swiftly replaced with a beer in my hand. Free alcohol? What’s any man saying!?!?
There was one guy who rode his bike to work one morning to raise money for the cause. I say rode to work… his work is in central London, his home is in Devon. What more can I say? I think “You are an absolute legend” was an apt place to start.
Also, before I went, they were asking me via e-mail about what music artists I like. Originally said N.W.A., but got nervous that I was being too controversial so knocked it down a peg to M.I.A. Now, I’m getting a bag with her albums and Jeff Chang’s “Can’t Stop Won’t Stop” history of hip-hop… a history that I should be re-writing some time soon.
Big in the game! You know a man is banging out Kala on a daily now…
Yeah I got, more records than the KGB…
And another thing, when it came to presenting me with the check, I was expecting a standard two or three grand. Man dem pull out a cool 9 thou’… I have never seen so much money in mylife. If I could donate it to the third world I would, but it wasn’t written to my name. In fact, I believe my exact words were:
“If you give me that cheque I will have left the country within 24 hours.”
As if their generosity had reached a peak, they whipped down a framed Jay-Z picture off the wall when I said it was “sick”, and put it in the taxi that they had paid for to take us all the way home.
Jigga what, jigga who?
Also, there was a pretty girl who worked there and liked the same hip-hop and grime music as me, which meant it was good times on both alcohol and conversation (and eye-candy) fronts. I say good times… basically I was in heaven.