I've decided to call my recent rotten period of days, where everything looked fine until the mask fell off then things looked much, much worse, as DARK PANIC. I don't know if there's any originality in that phrase? I doubt it. But it's what I'm going to call it. It's deep, chilling panic that's tinged with a kind of morose hopelessness; when I confess to feeling bad, so many people say kind and supportive things [which are always appreciated] but there's that bastard chattering on away in my head telling me that I don't deserve any kindness or support. Not one bit. Well... I do. We all do. Anyone who suffers. Anyway, today there was nothing that I had to do, that couldn't wait. Rare enough. I was going to attend to a backlog of emails and tasks of varying importance that have been screwing me up because I'm being pulled in differing directions and don't know where to start. But instead I chose green therapy. I contacted a chum, who I knew would be free, and we set off for the English Peak District: five hours outdoors with my mobile phone on silent. Magnificent. Calming. Beautiful. It was a 3-pub day. I'm sure you'll know what that means. But it wasn't wine, whisky and song [though that would have been rather fun]... suffice it to say that a glass of sparkling water in the right, calm circumstances can be a lot more pleasurable that a glass of champagne in the wrong circumstances. I still have my tasks not completed, but they're already half-done... and, after all, there's always some time tomorrow. Right now, I'm exhausted [!] So here's to therapy... green, or otherwise.