It's Not Me, It's You

by Jon Richardson

The sun is already up but is hidden behind a blanket of thick cloud. The fine rain from last night has worsened, but only slightly. The skies are grey and it is as if all the colours have been washed away from the world by persistent rain. The greens of the trees and the blues of the skies are exposed as a veneer that couldn’t stand-up to the abuse the world has given them. Unlike most people, I love days like these! Sunny days are arrogant – they appear to challenge you to try and achieve enough to warrant the splendorous conditions they have created for you. They exist for morning people to get out and steal all the achievement so that they can be back in bed by seven o’clock in the evening with smug grins on their faces and their freshly ironed pyjamas on their peachy skinned bodies. ‘Still in bed, Jon?’ these days cry. ‘Why you’ve already wasted so much time! Go! Find your true love, feed them cherries on a chequered blanket by a lake. Ride bikes down hills and laugh heartily at the wonder of it all!’ I’m alright, thanks. You keep that. But there is no such challenge on a day like today. On a day when even the world outside the window cannot bring itself to smile, simply getting round to making a piece of toast feels like a victory over the circumstances.