The Feeling Of Losing Control

I hate this restless feeling, first I messed up the bedroom by putting
all my books which were cluttering the white sitting room, on the bed,
then messed up the study by shoving books helter-skelter on to the
racks, continued my mission of confusion by creating chaos in the
kitchen, seeing as it was already full of crumbs

I added my new thick file spilling papers and my favourite pictures,
including Sean Connery and laughing people having fun, fantasy
rooms, an article on slavery in the Cape committed by the English
themselves, no less, they had a thriving monopoly, according to
Lady Anne Barnard who wrote it in her Journal

Compounding the feeling of losing control, the radio is playing Golden
Oldies, Roger Whittaker singing Now you Don’t Believe In If Anymore,
I smile – I still do and always will - if nothing else, at least it keeps that
dour expression of deep suspicion from my face, I dream about If all
the time - - - trying to focus amongst all the noise

I opened my French file just to find it impossible to pin myself down,
the feeling of accomplishment after last night’s work – five pages
of notes from Labour Equity Law and School Legislation in South
Africa – is still too fresh in my head - it seems having chocolate
for breakfast must have been bad because I feel jittery

Running around like a chicken without a head – time to settle and
wait for the mental fog to disperse before doing something; Tom
Jones belting out It’s Not Unusual To Be Loved By Anyone; right,
I shall nestle against my beloved in front of the TV - he’s
watching rugby, it will help me doze off, upon waking

I shall try again to do something useful with my books….


Saturday 3 November 2012