Agoraphobia

It wasn't right. 
It was downright unbearable actually. 
Gully the Gull could stand it no longer. These wasn't the dark, grey, low skies of his childhood. 
This was most definitely not an Irish sky. 

He was off to a dark underground den of gin-guzzling and debauchery. 

F**** them bright, crisp, blue skies.