As I type dust particles collect in the grooves of my laptop keyboard, blown through cracks in ancient ceiling boards, and under doors and improperly sealed windows. Courtyard plants stand sideways in pots and dog hair tumbleweed rolls through the rooms. It is December in Cape Town and the wind is here.

It is hot now and becoming dry. Traffic is mad, and impatient and brainless. And there is load shedding. Load shedding in Cape Town in December. Restaurants are losing their shit. Nobody can manage a traffic light turned 4 way stop.

Now it is 1030pm on a Sunday night and the wind is whirling though the courtyard, lifting the hatch that goes into the ceiling and battering the turning chimneys on the neighbours’ braais. I have spent the day negotiating the wind and load shedding.

I want to go to sleep but I am rattled and unsettled.