At precisely two o’clock today I realised it was Spring. Ok so it did make my brain wobble a little and think it was March for a second, but still.
I love Spring. I think it might be my favourite season, but then I change my mind every three months or so. What I love about it is that it’s kind of like summer, without the expectation and possible disappointment.
We have an amazing capacity to completely forget what the weather is like from one year to the next in this country. We are often shocked and horrified at all forms of weather, even rain and especially snow.
I love how in spring the sun starts to shine, just a little bit, and makes me think that it will be a lovely summer this year. My mind turns to holidays, long evenings, lunch in the park, beer gardens, ice cream and sun cream.
To me it doesn't really matter how the summer turns out, the promise of it is more exciting than the reality. I try to remember the good days and forget the bad, cramming the sunny memories in tight.
Most of all, I can’t wait for that first venture out of the house without a jacket or coat. The freedom, grey wool cast aside for a few months (or even weeks). Leaving a fiver in the pocket to be found in late September.
What sunshine and adventures does this summer hold? No idea, but as I spend my working hours looking out at the sunshine I drift off into the possibility of it.