An image of myself, I know now I no longer aspire to:
Sheepskin jackets and sturdy boots.
Card games at fireplaces.
Puddles at bus stops.
A carrot on the ground where a snowman use to be.
That jaunty stop-start run people do when they are either late or it has begun to rain. That jaunty stop-start run in which people drop their newspaper and have to decide whether they've read it through enough to let it go to the elements. I had mastered this decision making. Call it maths.
Yes reader, it was all sleight of hand and trickery. I was never this man at all and neither, I think, were you. I've come to one of my short lived conclusions that it is far too easy to play the part in winter.
The torrid weather that comes with such a season confuses the appearance of a good husband, a loving wife and dutiful children. It makes them appear unprotected and leads them in search of warmth when, at that time, even the miser had opened up their arms.
What am I getting at you ask?
Perceptively, I've noticed the weather has changed of late and it has got me to thinking about "the seasons". I've seen the car roof come down and heard a great deal of talk about sunglasses. It's made me feel pretty damn good I can tell you. It's made me feel....well....British.
What is it about spring that, in my mind, is so inexplicably linked to this fair isle?
Let me, for a moment, put my eggs in your basket.
Spring must be the season of change. I don't think this specifically applies to one's penchant for chocolate and, feeling an expanse around the midriff, a future lack thereof. In my mind's eye love seems to let go a little. What was a comfort at christmas has now, it seems, turned to claustrophobia. Summer daunts.
We throw our lot in to spring. Pasty white legs start to congregate at the vicarage gates. Children (and, in admission, myself included) start to run into oncoming traffic in order to avoid wasps. Friends and mothers and mother's friends, although the weather advises otherwise, start to get over elaborate with cake decoration. Collars get loosened. Drink get's drunk earlier. Flowers blossom. A stranger blow spits into your face thinking you'll be appreciative of the cool air. Someone who can't quite play Spanish guitar appears in your local park. Someone makes a joke about sandals to someone wearing sandals. Australians talk louder. Everyone wants to offer you Pimms. Everyone wants to offer you Pimms at a better price. Travel websites and images of caramel skinned Venetian grandmothers scuttling like cockroaches into dark corners of cobble stoned alleyways.
Yes, spring just has to be our season.
We are greedy on it and thankful for it because we can never be sure what the next season holds. Spring brings change.
Change and hope.
So don't please don't worry if you lose the boyfriend because now is the perfect time to buy that scooter you always wanted.
Here's to you and Sister Nancy,
Lots of love, magnolias, flight paths and portable fans,
NDK
xxx
PS.
In a graceful slur of words a friend once said to me:
"Sometimes, all a man needs is a new lick of paint."
....and now, I think, perhaps, a suntan in April too......
One,Two - Sister Nancy
