Dearth in the Afternoon

Hideous Sundays. They're better than normal at the moment but I still struggle through the daylight hours of Sunday afternoon. Difficult to stay cheery. Too easy to think miserable thoughts.

But anyway, it's okay. It was soon dark, and that cloak can be a friend to the Sunday melancholic. Plus, there was Quorn lump and stuffing for tea to help ease ourselves into Monday. This guarantees sure-fire success.

The walk home was inevitable after dawdling with goodbyes until after 1am. I like dawdling. Along Upper Tooting Road where no one was about, a Kebab Shop man was staring out of the window, looking for signs of anyone, at 1am on Monday morning, looking for a kebab. God, that man looked like he wanted to sell kebabs. But he’d found no one. I waved and carried on.

I’m getting used to the walk again. Walking has never been too much of a big deal to me. As a kid my parents never owned a car, so we walked. Then, when started to go out with friends I would use potential taxi money for more beer. I’d walk the five miles home instead, slightly drunk, zigzagging along unlit streets to the middle of nowhere.

So now I don’t think of a 30 minute walk home. There were the usual goblins on the dirt path home, but I can handle them now. The Ipod battery ran out too, despite my vocal encouragement. But I could handle that too. The man stopping his car for a piss was more surprised to see me than I was of him. The walk home at night is my country.

And you can handle a lot when you decide not to worry about it. But I forgot to buy milk. What am I going to do for milk in the morning?