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I'm suffering from a bad case of wanting to be looked after this week. I have loads to do but all I want to do is throw a tantrum in my own living room. The trouble is I don't have a living room to throw a tantrum in. And I want to throw the tantrum in the first place because I have to do the work and go get it myself.[emoji36]
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'...
At poor peace I sing
To you strangers (though song
Is a burning and crested act,
The fire of birds in
The world's turning wood,
For my sawn, splay sounds,)
...'
Dylan Thomas, Author's Prologue
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