I actually managed to play golf yesterday for the first time since last November. Golf, my loyal reader may recall, was one of the victims of my dismal mental health last winter. I lost all confidence in my ability to play at the same time as turning into a hermit. Yesterday, I finally managed it.

I played the Woodlands Signature Course in Almondsbury/Bradley Stoke or wherever you say it is and although I was not exactly performing at an especially high level, at least I got around the course with a respectable score, by my standards, of 93. It took every single bit of mental strength I had left to do it, but I did it.

It is entirely possible I overestimated my abilities before I played, disappointed as I was at the frequent mishits and duff shots. Yet, for all that, I actually managed to par three of the first four holes, unprecedented in my entire golfing career.

It didn’t take long to get back in the swing (see what I did there?) and I attempted to power walk in between shots to test my (lack of) fitness. By and large, I felt remarkably well at the end of the round and am now determined to play again very soon, perhaps on Sunday afternoon when hopefully most people will be watching the cricket world cup final, the British Grand Prix or the Wimbledon Gentleman’s tennis final. I have little interest in the cricket and none in the other two, so it won’t be an especially tough decision.

Is it a breakthrough? I don’t know. I’m still not ready to attend a mass participation event like tomorrow’s PRIDE celebration in Bristol, although I will make a post march appearance in some of the many hostelries around Clifton.

Still, I’m doing stuff bit by bit, trying my best to come back from the brink (and I really was). I’m more settled at work, I’m writing more and I’m in a better place than I was a mere two days ago. If anyone can explain how this shit works, answers on a postcard please.

I’m still trying to remove the hate and loathing from my life, of which there is far too much in our divided and broken country. Things might get better nationally in a decade or so. In my little world, I don’t have a decade to waste. The fight goes on.