The low mood has lifted.

My belly is warm and my bowels definitive!

The low mood has slipped away, leaving hardly a trace upon me so I could, and clinically should, succumb again, and perhaps soon. However, pursuing my pleasures with a devotion and attending to my father's toilet have lent me a keen grasp on myself that has restored me immeasurably. Also, I took Helen to Venice. Of course, my initial purpose of the trip was to show Helen Bellini's Madonna degli Alboretti and to gauge her response to the maternal aloof. She was most animated and then, stirring her expensive coffee, withdrew from me. Of course, as I hoped, she came like a train that night.

I should have predicted a few days in Venice, the most artful and fake of cities, would have cheered me, and so it did. Yes, one or two long walks on the Downs has helped, certainly. Yet I find nature so insistent, like an overbearing parent. How can it compare?

Then a message from Karen. She is unwell and will I look after Thom for a few days? My restoration is complete! And yet my first, somewhat bitter feeling, was relief at our mutual lack of support. I am, indeed, a miserly creature. Clearly, if depression were to break out again, I'd deserve every bit of it.