The Coffee With The Sadness And Unplugged Guitars

Hello! If we were having a coffee this week, I’d have a flat white but the biggest question will be what I get to eat with it.  Do I got for a chocolate twist or the more healthy option?

I can’t exactly remember what happened on Monday, but I do remember when we spoke this time last week that I was quite enjoying my long weekend in the sun.  I think and assume that that continued in to Monday which was also a public holiday here in the UK, but Tuesday was different.

On Tuesday I woke up feeling sad.  As far as I know there was no trigger.  Sure, I was going back to work after four days away, but it didn’t feel like that.

I follow someone on Instagram that you can probably class as an influencer and they have a habit of, every now and again, they post how they’ve been spent all weekend crying.  I sometimes look that and, without meaning to sound dismissive, I think that it could be hormonal or else that there can be some exaggeration to help engagement in some way that I might not be aware.

However, I lack the same hormonal set-up as well as that sort of popularity, but I genuinely realised what they meant.  And I can’t explain it better than just feeling sad.  Sad is the best word too, because I wasn’t depressed or a little bit low. It was sadness, but for no apparent reason.  My mind went to why I’ve been sad in the past but that was me trying to work out what was going on rather than that causing it.

I don’t know whether this is carrying on the theme, bit on Thursday morning I woke from a dream where I was playing in a band but my guitar wasn’t plugged in and only the people near could hear me play it.  They thought it was good and were telling me as much, but no-one would help me plug my guitar in.  I was walking round asking all sorts of people if they’d help but everyone else was quite happy to just continue.

Now, this dream was interesting from two points of view.  The first is that it is a perfect metaphor for how I’ve been feeling at work.  I feel like the effort I’m putting in is not being properly recognised, and no-one else seems to care because they’re quite happy that they are.

The second part is where the gig was that I was playing.  It was fairly nondescript to me at the time, until I happened to stumble across it today in Manchester’s Northern Quarter.  I recognised the car park, two wall murals and what looks like some pretty awful garages with green roofs that I could see from the stage.  It could obviously all be coincidence, and I do find premonition dreams to be bizarre things, that you can imagine a real place that you’ve never been before.

I’m not really sure what else happened this week.  As I said, I went to go see a friend in Manchester day.  I resisted the urge to spend a shed load of money on some trainers I didn’t need, which was a bit of a result.  I also read a good wedge of my book on the train.  I couldn’t be bothered going out last night.  If there’d been a pub with a fire in it somewhere where I could have parked myself for a few hours, that would have been great.  I wasn’t up for bar hopping though, so a pizza and film it was.

I’d been out on Friday night to watch Liverpool beat Huddersfield 5-0, in arguably the worst performance I’ve seen from a team winning by that sort of margin.  It was cold and horrible and I wonder whether that sitting outside in that tensed me up because I woke up on Saturday morning feeling like I’d been in a fight! My shoulder hurt and then I realised my face hurt, and my wrist hurt, and my ankle hurts because it has been for the last couple of weeks.  I went out and of course I went for the chocolate twist with a side of ibuprofen for breakfast.

I hope that your week was not quite as strange as mine.

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