It's cold outside -- well below zero, and the snow on the ground has frozen into an icy mask -- and I am feeling anxious (I'm waiting for my younger son to fly home from New York tomorrow, and I wish he was here, home safely). My mind has been lurching all over the place, and in between pacing, I've remembered the bit from Breakfast at Tiffany's, when Holly Golightly explains about the mean reds. They're not the same as the blues, she says:
'No, the blues are because you're getting fat or maybe it's been raining too long. You're sad, that's all. But the mean reds are horrible. You're afraid and you sweat like hell, but you don't know what you're afraid of. Except something bad is going to happen, only you don't know what it is...'
I'm not sweating -- it's much too chilly, even with the heating on -- and I think perhaps I've got a touch of the dark blues, rather than the mean reds.
And no chocolate in the house, nor any Horlicks. Tonight I need Horlicks in bed, not Breakfast at Tiffany's.