Monday, 6 December 2010

November 6th 2010

As I usually do at this time of day I have lit the candles to say goodbye to the daylight & welcome the evening shadows. Its now 1547hrs & the sun is leaving me until (I hope!) it returns at 0803am tomorrow.
But today I have a feeling of melancholia hanging over me.
Its so cold at the moment everyone I've seen today is (sensibly) wrapped up in layers of clothes. Its impossible to distinguish between the sexes, the anonymity of each person is accentuated by the cold. Even fewer people spend time in idle chat for fear of either catching a chill or experiencing the biting cold permeating to their marrow. People seem 'neckless', their heads sunk deep into their shoulders. And now the sun begins to say goodbye again, leaving us with the biting cold, the frosty, icy pavements as a legacy.

Returning home from the shops today saw 2 police cars & a coroners office ambulance outside a house up the street. The house was occupied by a reclusive elderly lady who has avoided everyone for as long as I've lived in the street. She appeared to have suffered from a degree of Obsessional Compulsive Disorder (OCD) as I've seen the lady after closing her door (from the outside), stand & pull & push the door for a great number of times to check (presumably) that it was locked. I won't bore you with the psycho dynamics of her behaviour but the lady was clearly crippled by her affliction. But now she is dead.
No more will she check her door, no more will she be troubled by her compulsive anxiety. Her lonely demise & subsequent death was discovered by her neighbour who called the police not having sen the lady for some time. Its sad. Her house is now closed tight shut. The door unchecked. The rooms as cold as the lady herself in the city morgue.

What is her story? Is there anyone out there in in the cold who will miss her? Or will her memory be as cold as the weather, as the ice on the pavements near her front gate. Rest in Peace OCD lady, I'm sorry that is how I remember you. Nut tonight I will say a prayer for your soul.

My candles burn bright now. The sun is all but gone. The only light outside is from the luminous frost on the paths & roofs & the orange street lights.
The winter has come early this year, the memory of the summer seems an age ago. The last of the summer plants are now all dead & wilted. Its hard to accept that life outside is not completely dead but only dormant. Asleep, humming mutely, waiting to sing again when the sun returns.

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