Last week the clocks changed and summer arrived. It was as if someone looked down on us as we trudged on, shoulders hunched against the wind and decided to give us a break. A switch was flicked and March became May.
And what difference the sun makes. Clever Mother Nature had been sneaking us ever closer to summer without us really taking note. Already the blossom trees were budding, the birds were calling to each and the first spring flowers were making their brave displays but add the warm sunshine into the mix and we are suddenly aware of how far on the year had got.
Five days of unbroken blue skies and warm sunshine follow and the country relaxes. Weather records are broken, garden furniture is dragged into position and barbecues are discussed. The nation strips to reveal pasty flesh which you can almost see blinking in the bright light as it is dragged from the safety of its winter garb. People smile at each other in the street and the parks are filled with children’s voices.
Then as quickly as it arrives, the high pressure departs. The weather forecasts warn that temperatures will drop like stones. There is talk of sleet, though none of the longed for rain. We brace ourselves. Flimsy clothes are pushed to the back of the wardrobe, boots reappear and we continue to function under our grey skies until the next time warm weather finds us.
But now a little bit of me is more positive. I know that five days in March might be as good as it gets. I am aware that to hope for better will likely end in disappointment but I don’t mind. At least now that the clocks have changed we’re on the right path. I can now allow my mind to turn to dreams of long lazy days and short balmy night. Even though the realist in me knows that the summer will rival the curate’s egg, it is now within sight and I look forward with a new warmth in my heart.