Saturday, February 1
I step out of the house in the gray of the morning and marvel at the change of palette, and the sheer lack of colour. The trees hang gloomily in a featurless sky.
I go for a walk for thirty minutes, wrapped up heavily. The woods show no sign of winter and everything reminds me of a fictional November afternoon somewhere just outside Manchester.
When I get back it will start to rain, and continue for most of the rest of the day. I will think of my fictional Manchester in greater and greater detail.