Standing at the kitchen sink full of dishes. My Mom would take a deep sigh and declared she had the Januaries! It is a condition one would get , at least that is what I understood as a child, it was like a mood, the Januaries were not good. You got this condition from lack of fun or sun or both! It was also a time of year, these were the days after the long build up to Christmas , short , cold days , dark and gray days, when all shops were quite and empty, everything was dirty or a mess. It seemed every one fell sick with colds and flu. Of course now a days they have a real condition called SAD, which still makes me smile? I think this has replaced the ” Januaries” ! Today I’m sitting out side a wonderful cafe in the South West of England in a town called Bridport. A market town, It is mid morning , here and cafe is called “Soulshine Cafe ” here I am sipping a wonderful coffee. Out side in the front of this cafe, there are small french bistro tables and chairs, which I am grateful for! The sun is not very strong but still comforting as my body which struggles to deal with the lack of vitamin D this time of year. The cool breeze carries my hair caresses the side of my face, again it make me think of my Mom, she would not let us grow our hair. The english winter sun white in the morning and amber in the late afternoon , barely hits the top of the roof tops , with no chance of melting the frost down the alley ways.
The town is clearing up from the long festive season, a pile of small dry Christmas tree sit sadly , in a huge
pile on the corner. Sprigs of tinsel dance in the sun caught by the branches. My pen drifts across my sketch book, finger cold and stiff , the line steady and long, the cup still warm in my hands. My mother again pushing in to my thoughts, her dad use to call her sparky , we never saw the spark in her , she was alway tired and weary. Her name was Mary , born in January many years ago . Yes , that is why , I’m sure that is why I am thinking of her. The horn from a truck honks and I’m transported back to the present , to Bridport a long long way from home but where I belong.



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