Monday 4 October 2010

Infiltrate the grey

I've never been as aware of the changes wrought on the weather, light and landscape by the planet's stately dance around the sun as I am now on my weekly peregrination.

This morning mist shrouds the predawn landscape. Grey silhouettes of trees punctuate the gloom. As the sky brightens pastel shades infiltrate the grey.

Early autumn is melancholy, cool and shrouded, but later the season will flare into colour as the trees flush toxins into their leaves before cutting the nutrient supply allowing them to fall. The yellows, oranges, reds and browns of dying leaves herald the festivals we celebrate to keep the bleakness of winter at bay: All Hallows Eve, Guy Fawkes Night, Christmas and New Year.

Last week I succumbed to a cold. It was inevitable given I spend seven hours a week cooped up in a carriage full of people breathing stale air. As usual I'm left with a cough which is gradually reducing my chest, back and abdominal muscles to a mass of aches. A constant tickle agitates my chest demanding to be expelled. Coughing subdues the sensation momentarily but gives no lasting relief. Talking escalates the itch, and I wheeze trying to get words out while keeping the cough in.

The train draws me south toward to the tube strike stricken capital. The busses will be mobbed like trucks delivering aid to a disaster zone. Better to walk the 3 km from Kings Cross to St Pauls than join that scrum.

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