What a horribly grey day outside. Its pissing down with a harshness that suggests the rain has some sort of vengeance on the ground and needs to smack the shit out of it, and generally the air feels damp with glum. That’s right, Summer is dead. Instead, in its place, several months of looking out the window and wondering whether you can see the sky or if the House of Lords has decided to relocate outside your home and press all their miserable, dead eyed faces against the glass. I could pretend I don’t suffer from Seasonal Affected Depression but then that would mean that by sitting in my room in my PJs huffing and puffing about ‘the rain bastard’ whilst listening to Radiohead I’m just a miserable human being, and I prefer the former. This is officially Radiohead day by the way. As Summer disappears, bye goes the upbeat music I’ve been bopping about to and playing loudly in the car, and instead swoop in the wailing sounds of Thom Yorke’s larynx followed by the most evil 90’s gangsta rap I can find. I think this is far more appropriate for Sept-Feb and there should be some sort of law that means people can only listen to similar veins of tune appropriate to the weather. The best bit of this would be around Christmas where instead of Mariah Carey making sounds that upset dogs would be piped out of shops, we’d instead get Nick Drake, Leonard Cohen, Jackson C Frank and Public Enemy making people walk into Next and leave immediately for fear of bursting into tears or punching someone. Its a wonder I don’t run the retail industry really.
I realise how grumpy this blog sounds and I should point out that part of this is due to waking up at least two hours before I wanted to today, knowing I have to drive to Northampton later, and noticing a diary entry that states ‘Hospital 2pm’ without any clue as to what that’s for and no appointment letter to back it up. I’m slightly worried I’ve made a psychic prediction that I’m going to get horribly injured at around 1pm, and optimistically hope the ambulance will arrive and get me to the Whittington within an hour despite me only living 15 minutes away. Hey, at least I wouldn’t have to go to Northampton. Every cloud. Is grey. Bah. I shouldn’t lie actually. There are bits about Autumn I’m really looking forward to. For a start, I can fully utilise the warmth from my beard that up until now, has just been itchy. Soon however it will come into action as a permanent face scarf once the timing is right. This coupled with being able to wear my favourite warm hat will make my head a beacon of heat that people in pubs may well gather round to warm their hands against. I have been wearing my fave warm hat for the last few days in a desperate hope that as comfy as it is, it may also get cold enough for me to justify doing it. It hasn’t and instead my head has just got hot and itchy. Then I have to take the hat off, leaving me with hat hair and the sort of classy look that suggests I’ve just woken up and my sleep was spent being slowly dragged through holly bushes. Holly Bushes sounds like the name of a shit TV presenter. Jus’ sayin’ innit.
I also like kicking dried autumn leaves around, strolling in the rain when donned in fully waterproof gear and being up high places when its windy. All of these are areas where, temporarily, I get to pretend I can beat the elements. Take that trees, the water cycle and air currents! I do live in slight terror that all of this will be built up in a karmic field until at some point in 20 years time I’m stuck in a country with torrential floods, where, while I’m trying to swim to escape, a hurricane swoops up a tree and hits me in the face with it. I like the boom in business of comedy during October and November when everyone else gets miserable about the weather too, and the fact there are less stag and hen dos than usual due to the fact that only idiots get married in the cold and wet. I like that I can wear my Timberlands again which make me feel alternately like a lumberjack or a rapper, depending on the day and amount of forestry that surrounds me. I like sitting in pubs with fires, putting the heating on high in my car and putting an extra layer on my bed so that it becomes a comfy straightjacket that’s so difficult to escape from I often won’t bother.
Ultimately Autumn rocks. But as today is day one, I haven’t realised that yet and I shall mope about like its the end of the world and I’m fed up with everything that exists. Pah. Stupid seasons. Time for Kid A….
