At medieval week

We're on one of the most beuatiful places I know, the town of Visby on the island of Gotland in the Baltic Sea. It's Medieval Week, a yearly event that gathers thousands of people, including most of my and Mistress' friends. I haven't been here for five years, and it's still magical.

The old part of town is surrounded by a city wall, built around the thirtenth century, and the surrounded area has countless ruins, churches and medieval buildings, and the streets have the same crazy layouts that all medieval cities had - the go in every direction, and are very narrow.

We haven't been all that much in medieval garb ourselves, it's been raining and we've been doing other stuff too. But tonight me and Mistress are going to a show, dressed up, and tomorrow we'll be at the market place and other event-related things all day. It's not the same to be here with a little kid, not to mention sharing a flat with my mother, but it's still good.

And it's been a great way to handle the depression. I haven't been this active in ages, and the somber thoughts are all but gone. They're there when I wake up, but then I get thrown into such a lot of fun activities that I get distracted. The city wall, the ocean, the smells and sounds, the people, and my family - it all makes me happy.

And two days ago we went to an ale-house in a medieval cellar after little S hade fallen asleep, and had some beer with a couple of friends, and listened to live musicians playing scabrous music, and I haven't laughed like that in a year or so. The day after I had a hangover, but I was still actually happier and less tired than I've been all summer. A hangover is apparently nothing compared to the continous dreariness of depression and fatigue.

With mother in the same apartment, everything kinky or remotely sexual or looking like power excange is kept to a minimum. But I'm hers as much as always, and I feel that in my heart every day.