My Mother Sent Me a Voice Note About My Own Wedding. I Was Not There.

I am sitting in my car outside Peckham Tesco and my phone buzzes. It is my mother in Ibadan, and she has sent a 7 minute voice note. Not a text. A voice note. I know immediately that something has happened because she only sends voice notes when she wants to describe someone's outfit in detail.

She is talking about my cousin Tunde's wedding. The one I could not attend because I had to work. The one she knew I could not attend. But she is describing everything. The aso ebi. The jollof. The way Tunde's mother wore a gele that was "so high it was almost touching heaven." And then she says, "Bose, they asked about you. I told them you are in London doing well."

My dear, I have been in London for 18 years and I am still being described as "doing well" by people who have never seen my mortgage statement. Anyway, I don talk my own.