I felt terrible for no clear reason.
Everything I'd done that had once seemed fine
now looked like a wardrobe over filled
with ill-fitting clothes that did not seem like mine.
Worse followed-I lost all memory of why I had come to own them.
I recalled how Quentin Crisp marked his half century
by changing the colour he dyed his hair, from blue to violet.
Given my balding pate, and a beard greying at it's own rate,
that was not going to be my option.
Something less violent was required
to help re-acclimatise me with my aging.
I started to enjoy trying new recipes and making cakes
-getting into the process of quietly laying out ingredients
and following each step of the mix almost meditatively.
Until the baking tins went in the oven.
Then filling the waiting time by tidying away the ingredients,
cleaning the surfaces and washing the dishes I'd dirtied
-the better to find the inner calm to life that was missing.
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