My depression has been in a lengthy remission - pretty much since I left my job. Funny that. In particular Summer 15 has been a notably happy one. So maybe it is the passing of the season (for on the Roberts calendar September is forever autumn) or maybe it is something deep and repressed but today has come as a bit of a shock. There was the old inability to get out of bed, or rather the old fear that doing so would only be to provoke some calamity. Eventually I hauled myself out and went for a run, which did me the world of good. Self-healing. Hardly earth-shattering I know but an advance for me.
Perhaps it is the price I pay for another great weekend (Anglesey) or perhaps it was foreboding at my commencing self-imposed exile from alcohol until after the half marathon. Perhaps, but no not really. It's just one of those things and it's a bloody nuisance.
That weekend? A strenuous and stunning walk on Saturday from Porth Eilian to Amlwch; a lazy Sunday; a brief stroll at Menai Bridge on the way home. And some televisual/filmic highlights. On Saturday night we watched Woody Allen's
Zelig. Terrific and clever. One should never mistake brevity for slightness. 7.5/10.
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| Better than pizza |
Sunday evening flirted with farce but ended in fun. It turns out that the Benllech Pizza House takes only cash. It also turned out that the village's two cash machines were out of money. So I had to abandon the margherita and the pepperoni in the shop and we dined of bread and pate. The evening was rescued by rewatching five episodes of the estimable
Hebburn. I can't recall if I've sung its praises before but if you've never encountered it, search it out. Funny and affecting.
LIfe goes on. I'm going to do some therapeutic floor cleaning.
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