When typing this in predictive text on my phone I was delighted that unlike OCD, (which spells MAD and also OBE), SAD comes up as S…A….E. Yes…..self-addressed envelope. The official description.
As I lie collapsed on my fatigued sofa-cushions, (now relegated to the floor), I sigh in my toadstool-encrusted tracksuit bottoms.
“Oo noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo”, I mutedly squeak through gritted teeth, head gripped in my tortoise-skinned hands. “Oo noooooooooooooooooooooooo!”
‘What is the problem?’ you may well wonder? ‘What terrible incident has occurred to this poor victim of chance?!’
Did somebody just die? Has she just found out that she left her porn on the scanner at work again? Has she just had a bill for £5,681 pounds for some scaffolding that never went up?
What has happened, is winter.
And so I spark up. The only silent and isolated avenue I haven’t ventured down this lonesome evening.
The TV is on. Permanently on. With the sound off. The BBC news channel. I can only handle fact in my drab world, especially since Shameless so recklessly spurned my soul.
The riots are on in Cairo. It’s the freakiest show.
And behind the sound of firebombs, the tremble of the number 7 bus and the whirring of outdated electrical appliances, I can hear something else…..
A kind of whistling…..a kind of….rushing, blustery sound.
In my hazed state I investigate further. I mute the cathode-ray bitch, arthritically creep up to the monster, and bend my waxen ear behind it.
And all that I could hear? The other side of the telly….the damp, 80s-tiled fireplace. Was it….? Yes! It was! The wind!
Oh glory be, with delight my mind quickens a slumber-beat and my blog begins.
MOTHER NATURE! THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN MISSING! MOTHER BLOODY NATURE!
I sit and scribble. I plan to rant about not actually having S.A.D, or bipolar disorder for that matter, just having a lack of nature in my life.
S.A.D: the lack of nature! Eureka!
I was planning to write all this, when the noise abruptly stopped.
‘That’s peculiar’, I think: The wind is the wind, it doesn’t just STOP…..
The noise starts again. I realise that it isn’t even a blustery night outside my window. So if it isn’t windy, what is this rattling noise coming through my chimney?! God, no….not the squirrels again?…
Creeping further, I am led to the front door of my flat.
This has happened before….the strange noise emulating from the hallway….
I open the door. I peer around, squinting in electric light like a rodent in the desert, and I listen…..
Yes, it’s that weird noise from the hallway again.
I feel utterly disenlightened, and if my neighbours poke their heads out now, they will see me up the stairwell; sullen-titted in thermal vest, with one slipper on and thatch for hair.
I recoil. Into my ubiquitous den. Back to my slumberless sofa, into my comfortable winter-place.
Mother nature my rashy arse.
S.A.D. That’s what.