What can you do when such a grim weekend presents itself? My remedy has been chips, ice cream, curry and therapeutically crying my face off at the final Harry Potter film.
And also making a list of all the blog posts I've meaning to write over the last couple of months and not getting round to.
And then posting one of them. This one.
It's starting now.
Here it is.
No, do that later. This won't take long.
It's just this: a heart drawn on a window pane by some previous inhabitant of a B&B room in Yorkshire.
As signs go, it can't be seen until the new occupants of the room decide to make a cup of tea, and then it silently reveals itself – a simple masterpiece rendered in invisible finger ink on a steam and glass canvas. One pair of lovers – Heathcliff and Cathy in cagoules, coming in from the wild blast of the moors outside, rosy-cheeked and never-more-alive, peeling off their layers, popping on the kettle – feeling compelled to share a message of uncontainable desire with those who followed in their footsteps.
I, however, was sharing the room with my mum so the romance was pretty much wasted on me.