You hear them before you see them, the screech. Mixed in with our dull, grey urban pigeons are vivid green parakeets. I disturb them and they take to the skies, still screeching. By the river I see the last few swifts, collecting insects to energise them for their long journey home. How I wish I was going with them, the thought of winter terrifies me.
Most of the houses have not woken yet, blinds drawn, curtains closed. I ponder on the state of the occupants. Us Northerners are big on booze, certainly in my local streets. I remember the sensation, the thick head, the taste in the mouth, the dread of facing what I have said. Nowadays any brief euphoria that may have been on offer, is quickly replaced by the reality that I have woken early, feeling like death and there are at least another 12 hours to crawl through until bed time. Yes I can honestly say I prefer the company of the parakeets and pigeons to the thrill of the Sauvignon Blanc and Netflix.
I am not out of the woods yet and I’ll probably revisit them at some point. Depression and alcohol have been my companions for many a long year.
The leaves are turning, winter beckons. I don’t want to take the wrong path.
A Moodscope member.