Vernal Anxiety

It is hard to believe that I was swimming in the sea only last Monday, given the behaviour of the intervening days. Even though in theory the weather shouldn't know what month we humans call it, somehow it knows it's now September and can therefore stop making an effort.

Bloody September. There's something about early September in particular that induces depression, the early tell-tale symptoms of SAD. It's the academic year in the UK that has of course coloured my impression of this month. In general, like so many children, I loathed school with a vengeance, so it's no surprise that the approaching menace of the Autumn Term felt like the end of the world.

Dampness and dead leaves; to these add the smells of floor polish, mothballs and revolting wads of chewing gum stuck to the underside of battered wooden desks so ancient they still had inkwells. Simmer over the heat of Victorian radiators in a dungeon-like room containing thirty teenage boys; drizzle with chalk dust. This is the aromatherapy recipe for despair.

The inevitability of the autumn term made early September feel like Sunday evening writ large. Eking out the last few scraps of pleasure from those final days of freedom was the equivalent of Sunday night TV - I really didn't really get that much pleasure out of That's Life or The Waltons, but it was better than what awaited me on Monday morning.

Fortunately, the Autumn Term never seemed to start on a Monday, so I never had to suffer the double whammy. For some reason it was always Friday, although unfortunately for most of my childhood and adolescence I also used to have to go to school on Saturdays, so it's not as if it was just one day followed by a weekend to get over the shock to the system. However, I don't think I'm going to discuss school any further now - I'll save crucifying them for a later date.

All of that's behind me now, but working as I do in a university means that my biorhythms are still attuned to the academic cycle, and the onset of September still has the power to alter my mood for the worse. It's partly because its arrival means that by now the year's as good as over. There goes another sliver of my life as we fast forward into the future. As I have observed before, the 21st Century has been put on at the wrong speed, and I'd appreciate it if we could start again, or at least if it could be turned back to 33rpm.

I think the weather heard me casting aspersions - it now looks hot and bright out there. I'd better go and make the most of it while I can.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Talking shit

Image
One of the things people say about me is that I'm quiet. Sometimes this is a criticism, other times not. I've already explained that part of the reason for this is because I find small talk difficult . Well, not just difficult, I find it pointless. If there's something worth discussing, I'm quite capable of amputating the hindquarters of a member of Equus africanus asinus with my garrulousness. Some people just can't help themselves though. As Douglas Adams once said " if they don't keep exercising their lips, their brains start working ". I usually come across them whilst I'm out and about, on public transport or in shops. You can hardly call it eavesdropping; to avoid overhearing these types you really have to be listening to Napalm Death on your iPod. Its incredible just how much you can overhear without picking up any genuine content. It's all filler, conversational fluff designed to prevent the other person getting a word in edgeways and
Read more

The Invisible Sign

Image
For a long time I was conviced that I was simply rubbish at life. Throw me into a social situation with a whole bunch of humans and I didn't have the first idea how to even begin to attempt to join in. People would seem to collapse into these stable little groups of two or three leaving me floating around like a stray electron. Against my best instincts I often tried attaching myself to these groups but joining in with the conversation was impossible. Besides, I really felt like I was interrupting. It was rude . Even if I did dare to say something I'd get odd looks. I still consider my crowning achievement in this Biggest Outsider Challenge to be when I ended up spending time standing around on my own at the very bash being held for me leaving a job I'd been in for 16 years... Now that was impressive. Of course well-intentioned people kept telling me to try harder, giving me tips and tricks, but nothing really seemed to work. I'd hear variations of "We all feel aw
Read more

The Most Effectual Top Cat

Image
Thinking back to my earliest memories, I recall myself as having been surprisingly (mentally) articulate even as a very young child. Perhaps what I was thinking wasn't necessarily in adult English or even in words but it was still recognisably me doing the thinking, exactly the same person, the same mind that is doing the typing now.  Particularly recognisable is the way things use to puzzle and bother me, in exactly the same way then as now. Why was Fred Flintstone ordering a deckchair to be delivered to his car , and what was the deal with Top Cat? Firstly it bugged me that he was called Boss Cat in the Radio Times and on the TV continuity announcements but that in the theme tune and throughout the show he was Top Cat or TC. My mother did explain that this was because the BBC didn't allow advertising and that there was already a brand of cat food called "Top Cat", but this explanation didn't stand up to scrutiny for me. If this was the case, why didn't
Read more