One of the proudest moments of my life was buying my first flat just before my 25th birthday. My dad helped me load my stuff into his car and we set off on our hour or so drive from my mother’s house in north London to my new home in the north-west.
“You know, you’ve done well. You did a good course,” he began.
I turned to him in shock as he listed off my achievements since graduating as a speech and language therapist – a “good job,” “promotion” and now “[buying] a house”– while some of his friend’s children continued to struggle for various reasons.
Now when I say I was shocked, I mean I was shocked. My dad had been completely against me studying speech and language therapy as, in true Nigerian fashion, he had wanted me to be a doctor.
“Thank you!” I finally mustered.