De-speckled

Last Saturday night was the culmination of a good day. Damo and Suzy came down for the anti-war march, then we hung out in Soho, met Mistress Pitt, and eroded our collective career roadblocks by beer and yakk. Minus B (work) and Suzy (ill - on birthday - harsh!) we headed to Bar 242 in some wasteland by Blackfirars Bridge, but it was pretty amiable except for the too-cool DJ and his need-for-bleed with the earsplitting music. N + R joined later, and Hari and Damo bonded over Edinburgh Fringe (I presume).

The difference between that night and practially every other in recent memory has been that I actually felt worth talking to - yes, it (my career downer) was that strong. It was damn refreshing to drink that in.

It does all beg the question: how does one spot and deal with minor depression, which is probably more difficult to spot, as it's not as extreme as other forms. Almost by definition, it involves a lack of self-awareness, so some reliance on others is implied.