And so things drag on. Winter has provided a covering of snow and the sky is a foggy grey. The depths of January – possibly the bluest month of the year – can be felt in everything. Add onto this the on going covid lockdown and we are all starting to feel the pressure. Perhaps the only good thing is that every day the days are getting longer which holds out the hope that not too far in the future spring will come to chase away the January blues. On a day like today that is small comfort.
I find my days disappearing in a miasma of routine: 30 minutes on the exercise bike; a similar amount of time walking around the neighbourhood and so on. Many years ago I was told about the importance of meals in a prison: skimp on the food and you’ll have a riot on your hands – nothing calms the frayed nerves like a full stomach. Now that we are all, well most of us, stuck inside our own prison I see the wisdom of that. Meal times are essential to lift the morale and to socialise. Then once more unto the routine.
I realise that this is so much moaning but I do feel it is important to release such stresses and to then try and deal with them. Not acknowledging these frustration only leads to further frustration and things could get so much worse. This is not a claim of equivalence to anyone who has really suffered at the hand of covid but rather an expression of my own personal journey through this January greyscape.
As if to add one final layer of insult to my pointless injury I can hear overhead the roar of engines of the United Airways flight to Chicago. I wouldn’t want to be on the flight but it is a reminder of the way of life we have all been deprived of. I think it will be foolish to think that once we have been vaccinated we all be leaping once more on such flights. In the January gloom I get the feeling that things have changed for good. What the world will look like in a year’s time is going to be different to the one a year ago.
The beginning of the end or the end of the beginning?