Something In The Air...

"In Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love." Not my words, but those of the confusingly named Alfred Lord Tennyson. (That's like being called Margaret Baroness Thatcher or Patrick Mister Galey; my middle name is Richard). But I digress.

Every day, I walk to Manor House tube, bracing myself against the chilling wind, cursing silently to myself as to when this neverending Winter shall cease. Last week saw the start of the County Cricket season coincide with snow-showers - an indication that the wintry weather is really milking it. It's late April for goodness sake.

I know it's so British to moan about the weather, and I have decried enough climatic cliches in previous posts, but it's something that's so fundamentally affecting to all of us. Tennyson's pathetic fallacy is grounded in essential truth.

What comfort to the soul it was therefore, to walk out of the house today and be greeted by a pleasantly temperate breeze. Admittedly it smelt of exhaust fumes and burnt rubber, but it was nice all the same. If you spend anytime at all outside, you'll know that it's far less of an arduous pursuit if the weather is nice.

Equally, if you spend a lot of time cooped up inside, it's uplifting to know that there is infinite space into which you can burst at the end of the day - liberated, exultant and warm.

Somehow Spring air has a different smell to it. Be it pollen particles, or the odor of cut grass and cigarette smoke, the atmosphere palpably changes during the transition to Summer. Tennyson may have had the right sentiment in "Locksley Hall", but he was rather vague in his execution.

In Spring, a young man's fancy may take a Romantic turn, but it is not necessarily channeled into thoughts of love. You approach life with a renewed vigour, a hope in the promise of long forgotten experiences - late nights in the park, al fresco drinking and sunny afternoon walks.

Your attention turns from rushing indoors and barricading the locks to getting outside and seeing the world, reminding yourself that you're not the only one who has, over the darker months, gradually turned a shade of pale grey.

My fancy is never far from thoughts of love. This Spring, it shall lightly turn to thoughts of a lovely tan.