So I sit in Princes St Garden on a beautiful day during the May bank holiday. Few places I’ve been to look as good as Edinburgh does in the sun. Fantastically fashionable people lie all around in various states of undress, overhead the union flag flies brightly from the castle and the trees and grass glow a lush green. It’s peaceful too, it appears that the £600 million spent on the trams has had at least one benefit – with Princes St closed to traffic all you can hear is the birds and the gentle thump of people kicking a ball.

This is the first weekend in a while which I’ve had to myself. A chance to recuperate and, inevitably, think. I really do believe I must suffer from SAD, possibly exaggerated by living in Scotland. Every spring I experience a renewed sense of hope and optimism. I’m enjoying one of those periods right now. Internally at least I’ve made a sort of recovery.

Yet that’s not to say anything has really changed externally. My job still feels a waste of time, socially I’m far from surrounded by friends and any prospects of immediate change are dim. Yet small improvements are being made on most fronts.

What is frustrating however is that I appear to be letting myself down at times. You would think anyone stuck in the doldrums for so long would be grabbing all opportunities with both hands. Only recently I’ve been finding myself so worn down by my (comparatively few), responsibilities that when it comes to making the most of things I have to limply bow out through lack of energy. Reluctant to push myself too far for fear of getting ill, but even more reluctant to show any courage in overcoming temporary setbacks. Even the slightest excuse seems enough for me to take the easy option. I’m running out of chances and can’t afford to keep doing this.

While my psychological decline may have been reversed and the sun may now be shining, I still need to do a lot of growing up.

Photo credit.