Steven from Orkney.

I met him whilst I was in Norway. First saw him emerging from the twist of a path, all dressed in black. I have to say, he was very very amazing. Especially at umbrella holding (something I find remarkably difficult. I always, always nearly stab out an eye, or whack an innocent by-passer over the head. Always). Also, amazing at holding hair back. There are some things we said to each other at a party which I had better maybe forget. Anyway, given a few weeks time, I think I could push them right to the smokey crevices of the un-used bit of my brain.

Steven says cool and deeply meaningful things such as:

You lost a metaphorical post upon which you could lean, now you stumble, BUT, things get better (your balance).

Which I think is verging on the genius, now that my tired mind has deciphered it.

Steven was a moral compass.

I deeply (and emotionally) wounded Steven when I allowed his copy of the passport photo of us all - Steven and Joe and Coffee Bean and me - to be blown away under the stoop. It was dark at the time, so I thought, check in the morning, but the next morning it rained, and the one after that, snow. If it is still alive, I would class it as a miracle. (By alive, I mean still in possession of slight tints of colour in four vague blobby shapes.) Get in touch when we're old and greying, Steven, and I will refund those hundreds of pounds my careless act cost you in therapy fees.

There are not so many memories of Steven-related happenings in my mind, possibly because we only saw each other a few times over the course of six days. But I'm sure new memories will be made.

I said I would blog about this:

Nice and depressed; mutually exclusive? Can you be 'nice' AND depressed? Or is that not possible? Steven thinks not. The idea that nice and depressed cannot exist simultaneously suggests that depressed is an antithesis to nice, thereby making depressed 'nasty'. I think I may ask him to define nice for me.

"Nice- a taste, flavour or action. Defined depending on the person, their upbringing and their current life situation. Nice is an EXTREMELY ambiguous word. So to me 'nice' means confusion."

A definition which hasn't cleared up a lot, nor has it answered my question about the mutually exclusivity.

I guess 'nice' is a surface definition: Oh look, she has nice hair. Nice shoes. A nice primark dress. Nice eyes. A nice car. She's nice - she smiled at me a few weeks ago. She says 'hi' when I walk past. She makes jokes, sometimes, and laughs back at mine. Nicely.

But to me, nice does not mean a lot. You could have nice eyes and a nice car, laugh and smile nicely, and still be depressed, I think. The usage of 'nice' has been the one thing every single English teacher has, in a teacherly sort of unspoken agreement, advised against. Nay, threatened against. Use the word NICE once more, young lady, and I will PERSONALLY pull your socks up FOR YOU.

And then there are hundreds of definitions for 'depressed'; medical, clinical, a throw-away phrase in a conversation with a stranger about the weather or the lack of biscuits in the house…the number of times the word 'depressed' has been used to mean something other than the clinical sense of the word has staggered from my countable fingers and toes to the grains of sand in all the beaches of the UK.

So I'm not quite sure. Nice and depressed are both enigmatic words, sketchily ambiguous. This ramble has not cleared up a lot, merely the fact that it is too late to think deeply. (Steven, I hope your post is slightly more successful.) Which brings me to the unwelcome realisation that I must arise tomorrow at an unearthly hour to stagger in and analyse Blake's chimney sweep poem tomorrow. Ach, be gone.