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Brain Fog, or my chaotic mind…

I knew that today I would need to get groceries. I logged in to my emails, responded to some and deleted a lot, as right now I have not a lot of time for the campaigns I m involved with. With Trump playing around with war, and another Tory government, I am needing a break.

So I contacted a friend about travel arrangements to a poetry event at the weekend, booked a facial because I deserve it, and went to put on my mac.

I had planned to go to the mini supermarket 250 yards away. Somehow twenty yards out of my gates, I decided to go and buy some plants. So I headed to the local nursery. I met a friend on the way, which was good.

So I bought a rambling rose, and a variegated plant that produces creamy blooms, an ivy from the bargain table, a primrose, another plant I’m not sure of, but it looked interesting, and some stones to prevent weeds coming up.

So my basket was full, to say the least, and my shopping bag contained these stones. But, I don’t like missing opportunities. So I went to the larger supermarket on my way home. My groceries only just fitted into my bag.

I arrived home, and staggered into my kitchen after having deposited my plants in the garden. I put stuff in the fridge and cupboards, and arrived in my office upstairs wiped out. I lay, and used my inhaler, and within 10 minutes.

I need to stick to a plan. I exhaust myself by following an idea that pops into my head, without thinking about it will tire me.

I encountered a rough sleeper on my way back from the nursery. At first, I simply wished him a good day, and then went back and gave him a small amount of money. I understand that their only opportunity to get warm may be an alcoholic drink. He said he didn’t drink, and would get a coffee. A hot chocolate might be better. I went on, and went back again. I offered him a place to shower. He did say he would take the offer. In the supermarket I bought extra bread and cheese, so that he can have hot cheese on toast, if he comes. It’s so quick, hot and comforting, especially if made with butter.

I have locked my back door and hidden the key, as I don’t want him to work out another route to my home. There are kind gestures, and there is stupidity.

By Chrisssie Morris Brady

I've read poetry since I was nine and have written creatively since I was fourteen (probably long before that). After writing book reviews and social comment, I decided I wanted to write poetry. I have no formal training, but I surround myself with poets and their writing. I am honing my craft.
I have two published collections which I don't feel good about, but have been published by madswirl.com and other publications. I live on the south coast of England with my daughter. I am seriously ill.

6 replies on “Brain Fog, or my chaotic mind…”

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