The Darkness

The darkness is raw at 4 degrees, not cold enough for snow or frost but the ground a blackened mulch of dark wet mud, and dampness climbing like mould from pavements to cover walls.

The darkness, despite its name, is not really about nighttime, but by the nature of daylight.

Because the darkness is a great hemisphere of grey clouds, thousands of feet thick, blocking out nine tenths of the already meagre winter sunlight for what seems like weeks on end. There's no stars in the darkness, and dawn arrives truculently late with the enthusiasm of a teenager forced into being sociable. See when the streetlights go off at sunrise - and it gets darker?

Thats when you know you are in the darkness.

In the darkness activities come to a halt: pensioners won't leave the house for days because of the weather, which isn't great for health, but it's understandable.

The Finns deal with the darkness through the practice of pantsdrunk, or 'sitting at home alone, in your underwear, drinking alcohol'. The Scots deal with it not just with alcohol but with cholesterol. Anyone whose been to a football match in this season knows about the half time pie, fat congealing on your hand as you eat it. That's going into your arteries too, but its one of the few things that seem to be able to keep the chill away.

The darkness ends eventually: and winter can turn in a day, a glimmer of sunlight and colour bringing hope for days to come.

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