Saturday 27 April 2019. Midday

The tea brews slowly as storm Hannah rages outside. When I went into town earlier I wore my hat again. It’s very different from Easter last weekend, where the temperature only dropped below 20ºC during hours of darkness. I spent the weekend at my cousin’s in the countryside, walking on the hills, in the woods and along the canal. It was with a millennial melancholy I left her house, garden and cat that I might never be able to afford for myself.

On Wednesday I took the lift to the seventh floor viewing platform at work after a dull meeting. The sun was still warm but the winds were already strong between the two weekends. I could see well beyond the boundaries of the city, across the fields of Cambridgeshire and towards the fens and forests of Norfolk. Beyond that is the North Sea, I thought. It made me realise how close nature actually is; it can even be seen from work.

Meanwhile, students strike and Extinction Rebellion take over bridges and streets to try and extract some political action on climate change. I look at Nature longingly and feel like a Sally Rooney character who discusses the climate, the politics and the protests intellectually, but never do anything about it. Because I don’t want to be political. I just want to be in the nature that calms the melancholy that is brought about by worrying about its demise.

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