Lumpy Tonsills

For the third time since May, it feels like there is a mulberry bush lodged at the back of my throat.

I have nearly killed myself several times this week by slipping on wet leaves, which means that autumn is truly here, so on Sunday I bought some new headphones, plugged myself into Florence+the Machine and went for a Big Reflective Walk.

2010 will be a Crunch Year. 2006 was the last one, and the one before that was 2004. The run-up to each Crunch Year is marked by a Big Reflective Walk, usually in early autumn before the stabby rain arrives, before it gets cold cold.

In October 2003 I was probably with L, midweek, and we walked down the cycle track to the marina, over the iron bridge with the sculpture of the man fishing. It smelled like wild garlic, and I had History homework to do and was doing my best to forget about it. We had shepherd's pie for tea, and I got the number 11 home at about half six, the only passenger all the way to the station. The sun was low over the Knavesmire and there was a blue mist and the smell of sugar beet. School, on a hill at the far end, was all shut up, no cars in the car-park, and I thought how weirdly unfamiliar it looks when there's no-one there. I got home at dusk and the house was roasting inside, and I did my homework the following morning at break.

In early November 2005 it was a Sunday, so I got the number 6 halfway home from J's house in Acomb, and walked the rest of the way in my new red coat, carrying my djembe. We'd just written what is still the best song we ever wrote, and it was on a loud and relentless loop in my head. I had to walk down Pennyghent Ave, the longest street anywhere in the world, ever: traditional semi after traditional semi, for half a mile in a straight line, and that afternoon I got from top to bottom in five minutes without noticing. I took out some yellow paper when I got home, and wrote on Edward II for an hour with a stopwatch. I ate lentil soup and watched the Antiques Roadshow, and was in bed by eleven.

This week, I walked down East Sands to Albany and back. The tide was out, the water was all opalescent calm, and I thought about what's coming. I felt that quiet resolution thing, and braced myself in the chill. It's going to be a big year.