@tweetsbybright I need someone to help me with a video download from my videographer.
Please send an inbox and I’ll connect you with hi to help
I’ll pay for your services of course
Thanks
@aChildOf2Worlds If “they” are actually recording your conversation, you won’t be notified.
Must’ve been from your mom’s end if you say it wasn’t from you
Sometimes, the iPhone record call is initiated without unintentionally.
Don’t be scared
@MinneauxTex@luxemiaa It’s not a man’s thing.
If you care about Simone, you won’t watch them struggle, stress or suffer
If that man was living alone, he’d keep his home clean and get food for himself somehow.
That’s a man that has probably been enabled since childhood
@DarkEmpathsm@elonmusk He knows what he's doing . The least he could have done was to confirm the news, but of course, anything to fit into the 'narrative'.
@PlebLifeBlogger@Ichie_3clans@elonmusk There are Nigerian nationals who are also white. I hope you know that. The ban isn't about race, but of course, anything to push your agenda.
@JJeffrey100@Simon_Ingari What if they had another job that starts at say 6pm?
Or simply wanted to go have a drink with friends or just go home to relax.
No one should be obligated to work OT without notice.
Every Sunday at exactly 3:17 p.m., my father called me.
Not 3:15.
Not 3:20.
3:17.
It started a month after he retired.
At first, I thought it was boredom. Then habit. Then aging.
But it never changed.
If I picked up, he’d say the same thing:
“Are you home?”
If I said yes, he’d reply, “Good. Just checking,” and hang up.
If I said no, there’d be a pause.
Then he’d say, “Alright. Call me when you’re back.”
That was it.
No small talk. No updates. No “how are you?”
Just… checking.
My wife thought it was sweet.
I thought it was strange.
One Sunday, I decided not to answer.
I was home. I just let it ring.
At 3:18 p.m., he called again.
I ignored it.
At 3:19 p.m., my wife’s phone rang.
She frowned. “It’s your dad.”
I gestured for her not to answer.
The phone stopped.
At 3:21 p.m., the landline rang.
No one even has that number.
We stared at it.
It stopped after five rings.
At 3:24 p.m., someone knocked on the door.
Three sharp knocks.
Not aggressive.
Precise.
I opened it.
My father stood there.
Calm. Neatly dressed. Slightly out of breath.
“Why didn’t you answer?” he asked.
“I was busy.”
He looked past me into the living room.
“You’re home.”
“Yes.”
He nodded slowly.
Then said something he’d never said before.
“Good.”
And he left.
That night, I drove to his house.
I needed to understand.
He lived alone since my mother passed. Same house I grew up in. Same curtains.
He opened the door before I knocked.
“You came,” he said.
“Dad, why do you call every Sunday?”
He studied me for a moment.
“Come in.”
We sat at the dining table.
He didn’t speak immediately. He rarely does.
Finally, he stood up and walked to a locked drawer in the hallway.
He pulled out a thin folder.
Inside were newspaper clippings.
House fires.
Robberies.
Gas leaks.
Carbon monoxide deaths.
All circled in red.
“Every single one,” he said quietly, “happened on a Sunday afternoon.”
I blinked. “That doesn’t mean..”
He held up a hand.
“When your mother died, I was in the garden.”
I swallowed.
“I was ten feet away. Ten feet. She called once. I didn’t hear her.”
Silence stretched between us.
“I promised myself,” he continued, “that if something ever happened to you, I would not be in the garden.”
My chest tightened.
“So you call me to make sure I’m alive?”
He looked at me steadily.
“No.”
A long pause.
“I call to make sure you answer.”
I frowned. “What’s the difference?”
He leaned back in his chair.
“If you answer, I know you can.”
The words didn’t land immediately.
Then they did.
“If you couldn’t answer,” he continued calmly, “I would already be driving.”
My stomach dropped.
“You’ve been ready to come over every Sunday?”
“Yes.”
“Even when I said I wasn’t home?”
He nodded.
“I wait ten minutes. Then I check.”
A cold realization crept up my spine.
“Dad… how many times have you come?”
He didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he looked toward the window.
“Six.”
Six Sundays.
Six times he drove to my house.
Six times he must have stood outside.
Watching.
Making sure.
I tried to laugh it off.
“That’s extreme.”
He didn’t smile.
“You think emergencies schedule appointments?”
We sat there in heavy silence.
Then I asked the question that had been building all evening.
“Why 3:17?”
For the first time, his composure cracked.
“That’s the time on the hospital clock,” he said softly, “when they told me she was gone.”
The air left my lungs.
He wasn’t checking on me.
He was trying to outrun a minute.
Every Sunday.
For years.
I drove home that night differently.
The following Sunday at 3:16 p.m., my phone was in my hand.
At 3:17, it rang.
I answered on the first vibration.
“Hi Dad.”
There was a pause.
Then, for the first time ever, he said something new.
“I know.”
And he hung up.
@boye4christ2006 Quite unfortunate, but she has other options.
She can claim procedural fairness and hunam rights issues, and apply for AR or JR for extension argument.
Another option is challenge the 10yr route for a 5yr upgrade.
Meanwhile she should also request full SAR from H/O.
Good luck
@MrPitbull07 Him bringing up the need to go see his ex is the red flag and ground for a breakup. How did he get comfortable enough to even suggest he needs closure with an ex of 3 yrs? Girl, don't look back. He's bad news. The right man will show, and he'd respect you
@paddypower So for £1, I’ll win £50 if he wins? What if he throws the match and the other guy wins, how much will I get if I stake £1 on the other guy to win?
@SirLeoBDasilva@UseLemfi Check that they have not opened a Puga account with your name and credentials . Their defeat was that it was not a bank but a mobile payment platform, either way. I didn’t authorise it and so not want my info flying here and there
@SirLeoBDasilva@UseLemfi .,.,.since I neither signed nor authorised them to share my data with a 3rd party or use same for any other purpose than make transfers. Plus I have a Nigerian account which I think I has linked or something. It was all sketchy. Long story short, I told them to close the ac
@SirLeoBDasilva@UseLemfi Well, for one, my name.
I realised they opened an account for me with the said Puga Bank. When I called? The customer care was clueless, after several back and forth calls, they claim it was in case I wanted fo transfer money from Nig into my UK account. Made no sense since,,,,