Where Everybody Knows Your Name

Started work at 8.30am this morning and got chirpsed by one of the minimum wagers in the lift at 8.31am. He asked me if I like salsa music - I guess he could tell from my generous hips that I like to shake what my mama gave me from time to time, so I said yes. And he said he would bring me some. It's rare that things make me smile that early in the morning but as chirpses go, it's a bit different isn't it? There was no 'bwoy, what ah way you bottom look big eh?' , 'you well 'tick' innit'. I thought that was quite cool. Don't think the man knows where I sit, but hey it was still cool anyway.

Met my friend 'Ox' for our weekly naughty kebab lunch at Ranoush. It's a chain of Lebanese restaurants, there are three on Edgware road in central London alone, and one opposite where I work. I've ended many a drunken night queuing up for a chicken shawarma . This is not your average 'bab dripping with fat and oil either trus' me. It's the real shit. Think about the difference between your Mum's jerk chicken, and that thing they call 'jerked chicken' and serve it up at the staff canteen at work. You see the brownness and the seasoning and pick it up praying that maybe this time, they'll get it right. But...no. They never do. Trade descriptions would have a field day.

Ox is an online editor here and the person I have to thank for getting me through the door at The Big Time Newspaper. We first met when I worked for the Financial Times website back in 1999, and have been friends since then. He was the only boy (well the only one we liked on the editorial team - so he got lots of attention and special treatment). We're quite similar, in that we're working class kids who've pulled ourselves up by our bootstraps, and seem to have a similar love of naughty things: booze, fags and food. We've both tackled fags, and are working on the other two. Well I only drink on the weekends now.....He is the type of white man that makes you forget he is white - you know like some white people say they don't see colour, and you think to yourself? Yeah right. But when I'm with Ox, there's never those awkward moments where you have to start explaining what 'ackee and saltfish' is, or why you need to 'cream' (moisturise) your skin. Or the 'Why do black people do this' question? You know dem way dere. We're just cool together and have a laugh.

The running joke back in the FT days was 'how come you know everyone'? Whenever we went out to lunch, I always bumped into a random acquaintance or got stopped by someone who recognised me from back in the day. To my work colleagues this was simply unbelievable, but to anyone who has grown up in inner-city London, it's standard. That's why you must behave with 'decorum, decorum, decorum' at all times. I know, I don't always mek it. But I try. So when he met me today and I was talking to one of the brothers who works in sales, he thought we knew each other. 'No', I explained, it's just that everybody wants to know who you are when a new black face comes into the plantation.'

Well the ones that are not stoosh do (stuck up Uncle Toms who think we don't need to chat ). I have a couple who do the 'I'm not going to make eye contact with you just because you're black' vibe. But my thing is, it doesn't matter why we connect, it's just cool that we do. There's an Asian guy here that I've become friendly with, and he buys me a cuppa and some chocloate when we're working nights and the African with the French accent at Starbucks who gives me free coffee sometimes, and other people that I just nod my head to in acknowledgement.

Sighted a fit brother in the newsroom today. The first I've seen since working here. Tall, black and handsome, just how I likes 'em. He was wearing his jeans a little too high for my liking, but dem tings easily sorted. We passed each other earlier in the day and he gave me the 'nod' straightaway. Niiice. I asked the online picture editor 'who's dat?'. He said he's a freelance picture editor. So now he's going to book him to work with us, just for me. Watch dis ya space now.