The train-ride matched my mood.
Drizzly rain, the dreamy mystery of Worcestershire (a brilliant but too quick weekend spent there seeing Joe B and Emily) slowly giving way to Oxford, then change at Reading, train to Gatwick, then the train back to Brighton.
I haven't less felt like leaving Worcester. This morning sat in the cathedral gardens with Emily - sunny there - last night (and the night before) at the Cardinals Hat. Then there is the light, deep and rich, and the shadows - velvety and with the texture of nostalgia. Walks through the countryside by the slow moving Severn, noting the blueness of the sky, the clouds which look nothing like Brighton clouds. Thick undergrowth and woods that seem like woods. Countryside that isn't as scrubby and empty as that in Sussex. 'Everything is more dream-like in Worcester' Joe Walmsley said years ago.
Now I'm back in Brighton, writing this in the living room. Back to work tomorrow, in a job which is tolerable at best - and the air seems grey and tight and closed in...
Still gloomy outside.
Wish I was back in Worcester.
