Sunshine’s better

I’m not better. I’m just in a better place, mentally and geographically. Depression isn’t just about being sad rather than happy, otherwise we’d all be depressed, which is to say mentally ill, much of the time. This little break, a few hundred miles from Western Sahara and Morocco, has definitely given me a lift. That’s because, certainly for me, sunshine’s better.

Having said that, I’m learning , at long last, to discover that dry, warm weather is not the only kind of what we call good weather. The brilliant Nicky Campbell, of TV and radio fame, consciously seeks out “dreich” weather, where it’s cloudy and wet and gloomy. It lifts his soul. This summer he actually sought it out in the Scottish Highlands. And I’m starting to get it, although not for all the time.

One of my favourite places on earth is the Ribblehead viaduct on the Settle and Carlisle Raliway line. The first time I went there it was bitterly cold, with snow blowing horizontally into my face whichever direction I faced. Yet it was somehow perfect. Because that’s what the weather is meant to look like in Yorkshire. I could definitely see myself enjoying a cottage holiday in a cold dark place.

Lanzarote, where we are for a few more days, is an island of contrasts, from the rugged coastal beauty and volcanic ash to the all-out Britishness of many of the resorts. I’m able to enjoy both in varying amounts because I am not the snob I used to be, taking the piss out of the bingo, quiz night, full English breakfast nature of the place. In fact, I did vow to enjoy these dubious pleasures and more but other stuff, or nothing, got in the way. What I can get, just by being here, is time to do what I want, to think about what I want and enjoy what is, in all honesty, old fashioned escapism.

Sunshine’s better, at least for today. In a few days, it’s back to life, back to reality. And somehow I’ll have to positively embrace the endless British winter. I usually manage.