The Accra Air no longer crackles crisp with the electric electoral fairytales. Lethargically, people yield to real-life living. It matters not a rat’s arse who is the president – Accraians have to drudge, commute, pay bills, economise, agonise, save a little more than little and hope to acquire property that’s too big to fit in a box, the pocket or on a cart. Life’s like that! Trivia excites. Dreams and celebrations come in thick-coming fancies. But, now, it’s time to scurry into the fields, each man for himself, and dig some damn trenches.