It is T-minus 90 minutes till sundown. The impending dusk is creeping up the mountain like an embarrassed ghost. Strange rustles in the undergrowth could be furry creatures preparing for bed, or they could be dark ghouls with the stolen souls of dead mushrooms.

It is not clear how the neurotypical is able to navigate fully without the useful rebound effects of doorways and table corners, but it must lead them to feel very disorientated to keep missing things wherever they go… Their dance function appears to be largely broken, or working intermittently, and is only triggered to produce small and infrequent bouts of dancing at occasions such as family weddings.

On a thickly foggy October morning, the high mountaintops beckoned me. The low autumn sun shimmered through a veiled sky, gilding the russet leaves in gold, and forming magical landscapes that emerged and evolved from the mist...

Is there anything more tranquil than the gentle plop of a duck into the still waters of a canal? Soft autumn colours, tranquil reflections and comical birds in a gentle leaf-dusted ramble...

A journey into a cloaked landscape. Skies overcast with the palest of greys have rendered a flat, still light, hiding the depth and contrast of the hills. It is like nature, in the midst of its magnificent tumble into autumn, has chosen to have a little snooze - to rest a moment from the bustle of the season - retreating under the grey anonymity of the stratus clouds.

Today's walk heads into the land of deep evergreens grown upon the spoil of our mining past. A mountain whose landscape has changed and evolved through the mists of time...

ADHD friends – are you used to not hearing from your friend for months and then receiving War and Peace in a text message? – This is why. I just want the world, the day, the hour, to go…

People call it the black dog. I think of depression more as a haunted Victorian governess who has been repeatedly washed on an old sock cycle.

The night has fought at last to equal length, and the shadows of the year are creeping up behind the trees. Despite this, the morning light of the low autumn sun is bright – iridescent &#8211…

The mountain landscape, gilded in low autumn sun, is at the very cusp of change. Verdant green oaks spill their prolific bounty to the ground below, mingling with the first russet leaf-drop. On the open hillside above, the bright green ferns, bejewelled with raindrops, sit aside their newly bronzed companions. The hazy light softens the edges of the mountain path, beckoning me into the autumn magic...