Facebook is a wonderful thing: postings go from the ridiculous to the sublime and back again. Who would have thought that this kind of internet social network could contribute to our development as a human being, as well of course as providing us with a few good laughs...

I have been living under my own weather system these past few weeks. The weather outside is pretty irrelevant. If anything, I prefer 'bad' weather because it is easier for me to feel ghastly when there is little else I could do but stay indoors. I find warm sunny days really hard to handle when my internal weather is on the dark rainy side.  This is counter-intuitive:  most people expect me to feel better when the sun is shining.

I am feeling royally fed up today. I wish I could have a good cry but I don't even have the energy to produce tears...   I am just an old lump of misery. Good old pain signals are having a field day and I hurt all over.

I love fish. I love to look at fishes and - poor old things - I love to eat them too. I should have been a fisherman (or fisherwoman). I am the idiot who stares at the fish counter moved to tears by the beauty of a mackerel's stripes or a trout's rainbow scales. I get funny looks from the fishmonger on many occasions because of it.

It never ceases to amaze me how some thoughts will NOT leave me alone until I have put them down on paper, electronically or otherwise. It's as if they were yelling to be let out of my brain. Eventually, I must give in if I don't want to go completely around the bend...  Talk of being crazy.

Following the devastation caused by the recent earthquake in Italy, I have been wondering and worrying too.

Recently, I received the opportunity to participate in a Mental Health Directorate public Consultation. For the sake of all Mental Health Services users, I thought it was important for me to make my comments public.

This is what I wrote:

Dear Ms xxxxxxxxx,

Thank you for sending me a copy of the Consultation papers for the Redesign of Mental Outreach and Day Services. I appreciate the opportunity to comment.

As I was ploughing my way through a huge pile of ironing, a thought suddenly struck me in the form of this question: what is the difference between a strong spirit and a strong will? (My musing was obviously prompted by what I wrote yesterday about Jade Goody.) 

The death of young Jade Goody and the media circus that surrounds it has got me thinking.