February 12th – The fug continued throughout Sunday. Throughout the day, drizzle, sleet and snow, and the persistent, cursed absence of proper light. It was like someone had switched hope and optimism off. I found the day oppressive; I was caged, and I hate that. Hemmed in by the weather and a worsening mood.

I slipped out in the early evening to pop something over to a mate in Walsall Wood. A laugh and a shared moan about the lost weekend made things better. I returned to Brownhills, still in steady, cold drizzle, lifted, but still lost.

Bad weather will test even the greatest optimist.