Tag Archives: depression

Lost in Leeds

It’s been a depressing few days. I’ve had a cold, and chest infection and sinus trouble. I’ve also been taking the problems of the world too seriously (let’s face it, I’m not going to change anything), feeling guilty about bringing children into this world, dwelling on past failures and thinking about how I’ve wasted my life.

It’s possible that a late Spring has had something to do with this lack of cheerfulness. There’s something rather forlorn about barbecue supplies replacing Easter eggs in the shops while freezing rain falls outside.

The fact I’m less than a month away from turning 60 may also have something to do with it. I know it’s only a number…

In fact it’s probably a good thing to turn 60, as one school of thought claims that ages ending in 9 aren’t good for you. You’re more likely to have an affair at one of those ages and more likely to commit suicide.

I am also, it seems, more likely to post a fast time in a marathon.

I allowed myself a slight smile at that thought.

Julia, on the other hand, had a good laugh.

Too lazy to kill myself, too ugly for an affair and too fat to run. Is this what my future holds?

Last night, whilst feeling ill, I drove to Leeds to pick up Number One son. I am such a good father. He’s lived in a number of places in Leeds and the last one was easy to find and convenient for parking.

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Leeds – convenient parking

It’s a shame that he moved away from there and took up residence in a glitzy block of flats in the centre of town. They have many good features, but being easy to find and in possession of convenient parking aren’t amongst them.

That was how I came to be parked between the flats and a shopping centre loading bay, and how I was able to experiment with low light photography.

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Leeds – low light photography

 

 

 

Wandering, not lost

Not all those who wander are lost

J R R Tolkien

I dropped Julia off at work this morning. The gates into the school car park were open today, as it’s school holidays, so we were able to drive right up to the garden gates and unload plants. Yes, unload plants. We’re at it again, making up gardens from scrounged plants.

After that I took a turn through the countryside between Nottingham and Loughborough. It’s scenic, though unexciting countryside, with some pleasant villages. The weather was a bit dull for photography and I wasn’t on top of my game so there are no photographs today. If there were, they would be pictures of gently rolling countryside with lots of greenery.

The trouble was that I started off mentally listing the things I need to do to set my life right, I’ve been letting things drift over the last few years and need to get organised.

Unfortunately this line of thought has a habit of sliding into thoughts of things that went wrong, things I should have done better and bad decisions I have made. It’s often sparked off by looking at a biggish house and thinking “I could have had one like that if I’d worked harder and planned better.”

However, I enjoyed my life as an unprofitable antique dealer and gardener. I also enjoyed the unprofitable time I spent with the kids. And I have two neighbours who ply me with cake.

All in all, it could be worse.

Eventually, I decided I was lost. Strictly speaking I couldn’t have been lost because I wasn’t going anywhere. That’s often been the subject of some discussion between me and Julia when I’ve been happily exploring country lanes over the years. Just because I don’t know where I am doesn’t mean I’m lost. And if I’ve got nowhere particular to go I can’t be going the wrong way.

After that I succumbed to the lure of the Oxfam bookshop in West Bridgford. It’s been refitted since last time I was here and is much better lit and laid out. This isn’t necessarily a good thing as I liked the poky old shop. In fact part of the experience of buying second-hand books ought to be in the dim, cramped, slightly musty conditions.

I resisted the temptation to buy books on Shakespeare, Mary Queen of Scots and Richard III, but did buy books on Percy Toplis, Moorcroft Pottery and historical trivia.

The Moorcroft book cost me £3.49. It was originally £35. Unfortunately, just as I was feeling  economically prudent I took a look at the prices on the Moorcroft site.

I’m going for a nice lie down in a darkened room now.

 

What I learned today

I’ve been having a bad time of things. You may have guessed from some of the things I’ve written. But today I learned it doesn’t really matter.

A week ago I’d have seriously considered amputation as a cure for my arthritis; I was considering a shallow grave as a solution to a problem I was having with someone, and there was no hope. It’s also been raining copiously, which probably sounds great if you’re in California but isn’t great when you’re in the middle of harvest or trying to grow vegetables in clay soil.

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The lesson, which I should have learned before (and thought I had, if I’m honest) is that things pass.

My finger, indeed my whole body, is pain free as a result of the pills I’m on. The irritant is still irritating, but I decided to forgive her and make her as significant as dust.. So far that’s working. I now have hope again, though it’s a roller-coaster (more of that later) and the rain just stopped. Even before it had stopped I’d accepted that it will rain. Living in the UK you really can’t afford to get het up about the rain.

Anyway – hope…

We had two good, though tediously overlong, meetings yesterday and we’re now well on the road to finding an artist in residence. As part of that discussion we also talked to a few people about finding more groups to work with (hopefully in a profitable manner) and although we’ve been here fruitlessly before, my inner optimist says “Yes!”. .

Today we had a short meeting, which was good in itself. Even better, we now have a number of local doctors who know what we have to offer.

In a couple of weeks I may be less hopeful but for now, I have hope.

Tomorrow we have a leading academic and some overseas visitors. We’re clearly doing something right, but at the same time we’re failing to establish a financially sustainable project.

Away from all the grown-up stuff I’ve also had a good ladybird spotting session with the group, though much of it centred round the fact that not all ladybirds are red with black spots. Seems years of cartoonish ladybirds have set a precedent. You can’t be down for long when you have the group around.

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When the doctors arrived they gathered round like a flock of helpful locusts, telling them what we did and giving all sorts of helpful upbeat information. That’s the sort of testimonial you can’t buy, though they could perhaps have left out details of the post-lunch burping session.

I had to point out to the doctors that the winner (with six) didn’t have a medical condition, merely a talent for eructation.

Seeds, salads and soil

Having been seduced by exotic seeds and tempted by Twitter I’m now getting back to the straight and narrow. I’m going to grow salads and help my fellow man. If these salads can include bamboo shoots and the helping can be done via Twitter I will, of course, be a very happy man but if not, it’s back to basics.

This is why we started Quercus Community. It was meant to be about working in the open air, growing good food and making compost. Well, it wasn’t originally about compost but give a man access to garden waste and animal manure and there can only be one result.

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When I worked in the antiques trade simply breathing the air of an antique shop was enough to calm me down, in this new life I find that compost works the same magic.

Meanwhile, I have been suffering stress from both Twitter and the computer, one being fixed by the application of a sense of balance, and th eother being fixed by a pen knife. It’s probably best not to ask about that repair.

And yes, I did have to thing long and hard before selecting the three “s” words in the title…