Tag: depressed

365daysofbiking Ever falls the twilight:

October 6th – I returned to Brownhills in the overcast weather hinterland between night and what passed for day. It was damned grey and inside, I felt that way too. The onset of winter has me by the neck this year and I’m alternately OK with it and then quite down. I somehow feel I let summer slip away – I didn’t, I rode lots and saw lots and it just ended early, but I feel bereft.

From the Silver Street pedestrian bridge, I surveyed one of my classic winter views: Autumn is settling well here now, and the new houses with the nice line along the canal made an interesting match to the colour of the trees before them. There is life here now, lights in the new dwellings, and no longer does it feel desolate to stand here and be confronted with the place I love. 

This town is changing, like the season; slowly, imperceptibly if you’re not attuned to it, and I think for the better. Finally, the ghosts of the civic failure here are being exorcised, and there is evidence of a little hope, a little life, a little warmth.

Unlike the season, Brownhills is opening up. Perhaps this grey twilight is better than I thought.

#365daysofbiking Sucked under:

October 2nd – The Suck is brutal this year. The dark evening commutes are hard and the driving is bad. But today was unexpected, unforecast drizzle all the way, and with no waterproof trousers, I was soaked and miserable.

This is the hard bit of winter. Dark, wet and cold, it’s going to get a lot worse before it begins to improve.

Every year this gets more and more daunting.

#365daysofbiking Welcome to The Suck:

September 20th – It started with a bang: The Suck, the gradually darkening, menacing and psychologically hard commuting journeys from now until Christmas began today with a twilight, torrential rain soaked journey from Darlaston to home. 

Drenched in spray, nearly left hooked twice, perpetually on guard for bad driving this was the worst journey I’ve had in years.

At one point I just stopped and took refuge in a bus shelter to calm down. The sheer hard work of concentrating and being aware enough to survive in this conditions is a gargantuan effort.

But I made it home, and as I once again get used to this, it’ll be less of a trial.

Winter sucks you down.

April 28th – A grey, cold afternoon at Chasewater with little to commend it: On a quick spin out shivering and cold, they light was hauntingly grey over the lake. I notice the water level is falling gradually now with it now being about 75mm below the outfall spillway weir.

The gorse is beautiful, the hedgerows verges and thickets were alive with flowers, birds and wildlife, but there was little colour because of the awful weather.

Come on spring, we won’t mind if you wake the sun up!

November 11th – I wasn’t well following the procedure I’d had in the week, as I’d  neglected my medication, so I took a short spin out for some air after dark.

It was a good chance to try long exposure photography, and the results weren’t too bad. But my heart wasn’t in it: I was cold, tired, fed up, and returned home with a heavy heart.

August 5th – A day when I wasn’t feeling great. People I love are leaving for long holidays, which will make my personal life unusually quiet for a few weeks, and I had a dreadful migraine that disturbed my vision and made it impossible to read or concentrate.

I went out late to do some shopping, and spun out to Chasewater along the canal. The day had been squally, but right now there were blue skies and sun, and I admired the fields of wheat running across Home Farm to Sandhills. I guess these will be harvested soon as the adjacent oilseed rape has been, and the cycle resets for another year.

Today, I felt sad, but the sun and air did me good. But inside, the weeks of quiet to come were making me down.

March 13th – I headed for work feeling otherworldly and not really well at all. Nothing specific, but I was very tired, and I felt light headed, and not really there. On the way, the only thing that really broke my mood was the profusion of daffodils, which seem really early this year (but I don’t think they are).

I booked an appointment with the doctor for later in the week, and got to see a medical friend in the meantime.She told me I’d got low blood sugar and a previous medical issue was most likely playing up again, it would seem.

Sometimes it’s just nice to know you’re not losing the plot, and you really are unwell. Because once you know you’re not well, you know you’ll get better.

February 11th – It was one of those days daylight seemed to avoid. I headed to the canal for a little inspiration, but none came. The grey just merged via a horrid, drizzly mist.

The sky was grey. The water was grey. The landscape was in shades of grey. I felt grey.

Days like these really try your resolve.

August 29th – Not a fan of August Bank Holiday. The day off is nice, but it always feels like I should make more of it than I do, this Monday always feels like summer’s last breath, from here on autumn, cold, dark etc.

Of course, it’s rarely that – we will have more warm and fine weather before the darkness returns but I find this milestone sombre and sad.

It also reminds me of all the plans I had for the summer that never got done.

Today I was tired, having trouble with my hips, and recovering; so I stayed home, and did jobs on the bike and enjoyed the company of family. A short dusk spin up to Chasewater and back along the canal was enjoyable on a freshly tuned, fast bike, and painkillers had shown my aches the door.

It hadn’t been a bad day. The weather was good. Much needed jobs were done. And there are still fine, warm days to come,