I awoke at four am, and could hear birds chirping. Not a full on dawn chorus I’ll admit, but a definite random tweeting was happening outside my bedroom window. It was a sign of the day to come. Sunday was that day in March no less, that surprises the nation by appearing Spring like. Legs were bared, children were rushed to the park, people queued the length of the bowling green to greedily purchase their first ice cream of the year. If I were still living in Glasgow if would have been a ‘Taps Aff’ situation for sure. The people of the Midlands however managed to contain themselves slightly more, and merely showed their appreciation of the sunlight and blue skies by flocking en masse to beer gardens and green spaces. Groups of ‘youths’ dressed in black, with greasy hair loitered, flirting with each other, beneath the trees, like they’d been taking tips from the cliche of American movies and stereotypes. They weren’t the only ones though; most people fall into the stereotype of ‘acting like we do in the summer’, the minute the clouds retract. As though the day had been written by the Daily Mail headlines; people descend on the supermarket to find that sausages and BBQ’s have sold out; bottles of cider litter wooden tables and benches as everyone defects to the seasonal drink de riguer. Sheds are ventured into, pegs used, lawnmowers unearthed; discussions about whether or not this is the year to buy new patio furniture float over hedges.
I embraced the sun and spent my morning being a domestic goddess, baking bread buns and making pulled pork. My fella came home and we gardened, something which mostly involved him doing stuff and me marvelling at the fact that he had things like a lawnmower, and a shed full of tools, and an outdoor dining table and chairs. Getting my head around the fact that he is an adult, with real grown up stuff is something that will long continue to amaze me.
The day caught us off guard and we were incredibly grateful for it being a Sunday. In the wake of the topsy turvy weather we’ve been showered with in recent weeks; this momentary respite from nature seemed like a well earned blessing. We cared not that our legs were pasty white, having not been exposed for seven months; we ignored our skin breaking into goosepimples under the cool breeze; we were about to make the most of this one, solitary day of Spring that March had bestowed upon us.It was here; surely this was the sign that spring was here.
I fear though, that the above pictorial describes exactly what that day was. To quote Charles Dickens “it was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold; when it is summer in the light and winter in the shade” (Great Expectations). Granted this whole past week has been relatively sunny and nice; but let’s not hold our breathe Britain; we know where we live. We know what’s on the cards. Let’s not put the umbrella’s and woolly jumpers away just yet, let’s not forget we had snow at Easter in 2013.