Right now, my feet are cold, my throat is tickly. The clock ticks. It is dark. The weather is described as severe even though the snow didn’t stay. Inside, I feel numbed from filling in forms and seeing the word ‘No’ next to ‘Vacancies:’ on Childcare Provider lists. I feel lost for not knowing how things are going to turn out, things that I need to sort by an unspecified but looming date. I think I need to eat because I haven’t eaten since this morning - a hearty Full English, with sausage and bacon and eggs and beans and mushrooms and black pudding and hash browns and half a tomato and farting ketchup and a pot of Earl Grey tea that poured me 3 cups, and toast (shared with lovely 8 month old Eva), that’s kept me going all day. But I’m still not sure if I’m hungry yet.
I want to just be in the moment, not worry, not think so much about things I can’t physically do anything about right now, but my feet are cold and my throat is tickly and the clock ticks audibly and it is dark and I don’t have the right clothing for severe weather. The latter fact accentuates the feeling I’ve been having lately, of being unprepared. So I want to escape, I look around for a distraction but I know I’m looking around for a distraction so it doesn’t work.
In the Vauxhall Teahouse Theatre this morning, where I had the hearty Full English, I heard the theme to Downton Abbey on the radio which was tuned to Classic FM. I looked up from my plate and felt the oddness of hearing the music and being where I was, without seeing the images that usually accompany them. But for a few minutes, I was there, occupied by memories of those images, except I couldn’t place where I was in the story.
I could choose anything to be occupied with now, put on a song, pick up a book, put on a movie, see if there are any episodes of The Big Bang Theory on E4 (my favourite distraction at the moment), make toast. But I can’t place where I am in the story of my day. It’s as if I’ve lost my page.