In order to test my stamina and the recovery status of my impaired balance organs I decided to clean R's study. Well ok, it just happened, I didn't plan it. As I was opening our insurance folder, I absentmindedly brushed away the quadruple layer of dust on the shelf and before I knew it, one hand was holding a bucket of water, while other one was washing one of the slightly immodest Kenyan ebony bookends - one of the many souvenirial artifacts so skilfully put on display here. Hence, one thing led to the next etc.

The study is a small room of pleasing rectangular shape, facing south and overlooking the garden. For probably another two years, the wall paper may be considered white in colour and the deep rich green of the organic linoleum floor reflects the mindset of dedicated nature lover, an image that is often reinforced by an urgent reverberating sound not unlike an approaching small herd of, say, wildebeest but which upon closer acoustic inspection reveals itself to originate from the rollers of a humble office chair. It is furnished in R's unique style, i.e. start at the bottom right hand corner and work your way up over the years. To the uninitiated viewer, it may indeed look somewhat messy or even haphazard and careless. But once you allow your visual capacities to let go of western cultural limitations - all those sad preconceptions and prejudices fostered by ikea and Martha Stewart - the open and indeed anarchic spirit with its garage-like ambiance will hit you with liberating vengeance.

As it has been sufficiently proven in recent years that most men suffer from refrigerator blindness, (aka selective loss of visual acuity in association with common foraging behaviour) and that this functional blindness extends to the display patterns applied in studies and esp. on large desks,

I was extremely careful to maintain the underlying order of all things with the obvious exclusion of recent nail clippings and about a car load of dust mites. 

But just in case, I send him a careful message, beginning with "do not be alarmed" and ending with the rather more cheerful note of "I am confident that you will be able to cope" - to which he just replied, "cut the sarcasm".