Slideshow here…

It’s been two weeks since I last blogged. The first week? Well, the Black Dog was hanging round, lurking in the shadows and trailing me, surreptiously. I’d started feeling his presence three or so weeks ago, but here he was, showing his sombre, knowing face.

I didn’t want to blog, to surf, to post on Facebook. I didn’t do a scrap of exercise. It was just a matter of getting through the days. Getting up, getting dressed, going to work, coming home. Repeat.

Finally, last weekend, he bit me hard. Even spending time in a beautiful house overlooking a beautiful harbour with my family couldn’t stop me dwelling, moping, milling over, chewing over my unhappiness. That knot of misery sat, solid, in the pit of my tummy. I realised I was absolutely dreading having to go to work on Tuesday.

So I did something about it. I quit my job, even though I didn’t have another one to go to. Even though the Other Harf doesn’t have a job. He supported me, telling me that we’d get by. I needed to do what I had to do.

There’s new opportunities on my horizon now, and as well as that, in a fortnight we’ll have our house to ourselves for the first time in eighteen months.

I’ve kicked that Black Dog’s butt, and he’s departed, howling, with his tail between his legs.

It feels wonderful.