What a difference a few hours (and a loving family) make

Sometimes, and I really know absolutely no reason why, I feel down. I have nothing to complain about – indeed, I have a very easy life and, in particular, an enduringly happy marriage. Luckily these bouts of mild depression are rare. Lots of deep sighs. Numb feeling in my tummy. Nothing seems worthwhile. Last night, Husband made innocent comment about my hair being on the short side – I immediately took this to mean he thought I now looked like a butch lesbian (a lipstick lesbian would have been fine). Over breakfast, Son got the ‘good cop, bad cop’ routine – with me as the misery-inducing disiplinarian (“your grades were pretty average this week, what have you got to say about that?”) and Husband as the happy chappie “are you OK for money, petrol, how did last night’s party go?”. Grrrrr.Burst into tears in shower. Quick sob whilst blowdrying the short butch hair. Mild despair as I viewed my ever increasing wrinkles, jowls and saggy eyelids in make up mirror.

Husband suddenly says “let’s take the dogs for a walk on the beach and have lunch at East Beach Cafe”. Son offers to help me tweak a newsletter I am designing. Dogs come up to me for a hug. Friend sends me an email saying thank you for something. Drive to Littlehampton, take dogs walkies along beach. Clam and mussel linguine with crisp white – then a praline nougat and double espresso. Another walk along beach with crashing surf in the sunshine. Home – hug from son. Mohito. Strictly. X Factor. Back on track.