I can't exactly remember when or who it was, but I am fairly certain it was one of the beautiful stateside women I regularly
perv on read that explained the meaning of 'being in a funk'.
Actually I needn't have gone that far for an explanation, as our faux American in Huddersfield (better sung to that Sting song about toast) would have been able to offer an explanation.
The increasingly common use of the word seems to be in the context: 'in a funk' which I am led to believe is to mean you are in some sort of low mood or depression.
And I have certainly been a misery since the start of September.
Since my wife died I have increasingly noted that a low inevitably follows a high, with the peaks and troughs of these mood types being inversely proportional. The higher the high, the lower the low (is my maths terminology correct?).
I have combated these by not looking ahead too far, but always having something on the agenda to look forward to.
Things that are likely to be a slog, or a post-high low, are easier to cope with if you are distracted with the anticipation of your next mood lifter.
The problem with this practice is when the next thing you have to look forward to is not equal in stature to the occurrence that has taken you to a higher plain, and thus then into a darker place.
Basically the school holidays have fucked me over.
These are only our second summer, and extended, school holidays and we had a blast.
We spent some time apart, I went to watch The Prodigy in concert, which was awesome, and to V Festival, which was the opposite of awesome. But most of the time me and the boy were in each others pockets, or crotches.
My son got to grips with bike riding, which was beyond brilliant.
Bodyboards were surfed all the way on to the beach - and to their destruction.
I don't have enough fingers or toes to count the marvellous things we got up to, or that I simply witnessed my wonderous child doing.
But they all meant his return to school was not easy.
The boy kicked up a bit of a fuss the night before, but was instantly over it.
However, I have been decidedly grumpy.
Last year I think I combated this phenomenon by instantly focusing hard onto a 'get fit' programme. I ended last summer in the worst physical state of my life, and therefore threw myself headlong into getting back into some sort of shape.
Negating my post-holiday funk somewhat.
This September I didn't really have a huge goal, or task to immerse myself in.
Sure there have been, and still are, things to look forward to. But due to their number and more sporadic nature, they have effectively been a drip-fed medicine for my funk.
I am getting there. Slowly.
Probably in just about enough time for the October half-term to ream me a brand new arsehole.