I may have mentioned before that in the course of my life, I have taken a number of journeys with the black dog of depression very firmly in tow. The last 12 months or so have been the longest of our walks together. But of late I have just started to feel a little bit of the old me returning, with a little bit of the (hopefully) 'new and improved' thrown in for good measure. Things that were once so interesting but for a year were not even worth looking at are suddenly interesting again. And as a result my desk is a buzzing hive of busyness - books piled upon books, 'ideas' notebooks being started with enthusiasm and regularly added to, projects which had been relegated to the 'too-hard' basket are being returned to and finished off...last night I even thought it may be worth having a notepad by the bed, because I was still thinking of things as I dozed off. Or perhaps I am learning to better ride the natural peaks and troughs of life and to grab the times when the Muses are with me with both hands - to make hay, as it were, before I sit quietly alone again.