Six Weeks

A gloomy weekend, full of a strange sense of desolation I can't seem to shake. It's been about six weeks now since this melancholy shift began (six weeks exactly actually - it 'began' on the Saturday after Em and myself had returned from Scotland). There's no particular reason for it... it's all rather annoying actually. Life seems rather bleak at the moment , even though there is no reason for feeling this.
Had another Southside dream last night. Usually in these dreams I am trying to get to the heart of Southside, where I lived between 1978 and 1981. In last night's dream, I was actually back in my old house. I am unsure if I was living there, visiting parents, or on holiday. I needed to leave Southside, and I took a path that ran past the edges of the houses by the railway line. I remember looking at the different shaped houses (some no bigger than sheds) and looking back at some point I realized that some of the street lamps had switched on as it was getting dark, (in previous dreams of Southside there is always a feeling of triumph when this happens). I thought that perhaps I should make the most of this opportunity and walk through the streets of Southside as the lamps were glowing red, just warming up.. In fact, I decided, I needed to take photographs of this. I had left my camera behind though, and needed to go back.
A sunny day out there, and am meeting Em in 45 minutes for a trip into Pylon country, just past Portslade. A quick afternoon of crispy air and fading light, then that drop into night and the gallows-quick crawl of Sunday evening.
Oh well, another week starts tomorrow. Shame they don't pass by as quick as weekends do.