GREEN WASTE DRIVE
There are times when I have company
on my drives to the Green Waste depot.
If I’d been alone today, it would not have
been so god-damn embarrassing, but with
company, on board, I silently and soundly
wished myself elsewhere. First up at a
roundabout I was cautioned; loudly, I
might add, by the party on board. STOP!
STOP! STOP! Which thankfully we did
as I pressed madly on the brake. The car I’d
not seen approaching on my right, stopped
too and then proceed through. We carried on
and going down the long-straight by the golf
course I said wondering aloud, “Thought
there was a speed increase sign along here.”
Which, there was. That too had initially
missed my driver scrutiny.
I say with no shame that I let the other party
take over the driving on the way home. Clive
James, another poet, a very good poet, but
one who tells us he is a poor driver and once
suffered a lecture from his daughter which
resulted in his never driving again. (I don’t
think my driving is that bad, though I’d
very much like to equal Clive’s skill
with poetry.) As to his driving I won’t quite
put myself in that category though I’ll admit
I had been neglectful of symptoms —
things not too clear which was telling me
something. Keep my pre-diabetic count under
control. Greens, fresh beautiful vegetables,
greens will be on my dinner plate tonight,
and every night in the weeks ahead.
Nothing will go to waste. I pray I’ve not
left it too late. It is said that such things
are reversible, and I know for a fact
they are, have been for me when I am
dedicated. Should I slip back into an
overkill of sugar and carbs I’ll remind myself
of the miserable day I made these mistakes
with no slow process, but in an instant
wallop! Mortality reminders hit us
many times and in so many different ways.
Benita. H. Kape © 13.3.2018
