Road sign



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