Nip

For the first time, I could see my breath in the air when I left the house this morning. The drop in temperature crept up. I only started wearing socks again a few days ago and haven't yet got out my gloves. It strikes me forcibly that the beginning of October is about where I am in life as well as in this year.      

Watching the changes in oneself is unavoidable, and unavoidably a mug's game. You watch, but you really can't see. I seem to see myself at once grow stronger and grow weaker, more skilful and more inept, more fragile and more resilient. I see nothing but a big, cloudy mess. No point, really, in trying to get a handle on it. Every point in trying to turn my face up, not down, so that when the sun comes out I don't miss it.

I wrote the above on the bus on Thursday morning, then had to get off and walk because the main road from South London was a massive traffic jam. The sun came out and by the time I got to work two hours later, far from wishing I had my gloves, I was radiating heat.

Hoping that next week things will calm down a little in these parts and I'll have time to look out at the world again, not just to emit little squeaks from inside my own psyche. However busy, I do spend a lot of time pondering other people's feelings and behaviour as well as my own. Very fascinating they are too at such crowded, chaotic times, but - alas - not bloggable.