Optimism Can Be Relearnt.

I Still Get Awful Depression. It's Who I Am.

People Get Sick And Sometimes They Get Better And Sometimes They Don't. And It Doesn't Matter If The Sickness Is Cancer Or If It's Depression. Sometimes The Drugs Work And Sometimes They Don't. Sometimes The Drugs Work For A While And Then They Stop. Sometimes The Alternative Stuff Works And Sometimes It Doesn't. And Sometimes You Wonder If No Outside Interference Makes Any Difference At All; If An Illness Is Like A Storm, If It Simply Has To Run Its Course And, At The End Of It, Depending On How Robust You Are, You Will Be Alive. Or You Will Be Dead.

Political Correctness Is A Minefield

Failed Relationships Can Be Described As So Much Wasted Makeup. Forget The Laughs, Forget The Fights, Forget The Sex, Forget The Jealousy. But Take Off Your Hat And Observe A Moment's Silence For The Legions Of Unknown Tubes Of Foundation, Mascara, Eyeliner, Blusher And Lipstick Who Died That It Might All Have Been Possible. But Who Died In Vain.

The Back Windows Looked Out Over The Fields, Then The Atlantic, Maybe A Hundred Yards Away. Actually, I'm Just Making That Bit Up. I Had No Idea How Far Away The Sea Was. Only Men Could Do Things Like That. "half A Mile." "fifty Yards." Giving Directions, That Sort Of Thing. I Could Look At A Woman And Say "thirty-six C." Or "let's Try It In The Next Size Up." But I Had No Idea How Far Away Tim's Sea Was Except That I Wouldn't Want To Walk To It In High Heels.