This is Brighton, not Bruges

Left the house to walk up town, thought the air would clear the heavy melancholy of a weekend where I should be somewhere else, but thanks to a sudden bout of illness - passed now - I am still in Brighton.
I had hoped that the grey might pass, but the skies remained immutable. I walked down the beach, listening to the Garden of Delight album I had just downloaded, 'Rediscovered 2013'. This started to remind me (as everything reminds me of everything else) of the last time I had downloaded a Garden of Delight album, back in the August of 2008.
That weekend had a similarly melancholy feel to this one - an empty house, grey and cold weather, and an odd feeling of loss. Both my flatmates were away, and no-one else was about. I can't remember why now. I remember sitting out in the garden of Wilbury Crescent feeling sorry for myself under the shelter of the apple trees. Looking back I can't see how anyone could feel sorry for themselves when sat under an apple tree in a beautiful garden, but there you go, such are the laws of melancholy for you. The heavy grey of the sky darkened to rain, and I took to sheltering in the shed that was never used, and sat on a rocking chair I had bought down from the living room. It was quite comfortable in there, but I remember the heaviness of that day, a Sunday if I remember rightly, and how everything bright and light was robbed out of the day... except it wasn't leached from the day, but was leached, of course, from me.
I walked down first of all to Hove Lagoon. It's bleakness appeals to me. Cold water, sailing clubs with all the appeal of nowhere-provincial towns, benches under distant shelters on the far side, the haunt of teenagers on dark afternoons. The beach was full of dog walkers wrapped up against the increasingly inclement weather. I thought - briefly - about stopping at the Meeting House Cafe for a coffee, but the weather made it too unpleasant, and I headed into town instead. I bought The Tomorrow People volume 5 on DVD from CEX (as well as The Last King of Scotland). I walked down the North Laine, crammed with too many people. Made me feel like screaming at them. I went to Dave's Comics which was packed with people. I've never known as comic shop so popular. I bought a couple of new releases (Age of Ultron and a one-off Ultron special), flicked through a few graphic novels, went to Trafalgar Street Records (Not it's real name - I can never remember what it's called) and came home.
The rain had got worse as I started to walk back, a cold freezing drizzle that soaked me to the skin. If everything had gone right, I should have been in Brugges, basking in the novelty and anxiety of a new city in a country I have never been in before, but instead here I was, in Brighton alone, and soaked through.
I watched the humourless Tomorrow People story called 'Into The Unknown' then retreated to my room, put on the one Raison D'etre album I have, and drifted into a cold and troubled sleep. I have only recently woken.
Still raining outside. I watch it with equanimity. Guilt presses in on me. All I want to do is make a cup of tea and stare at the gathering evening outside, but if I don't expend my energy on artwork, this weekend will turn into a wasted as well as a melancholy one.