Spring is here, oh spring is here
Life is skittles and life is beer!
Ah, forgive the frivolous indulgence in a little Tom Lehrer, but for the first time in my life I am feeling the uplifting effects of springtime. I don't know why this year should be different - usually I am as indifferent to the passing of the seasons as I am to reports of changing fashions in wallpaper - but it is.
Perhaps one's circadian rhythms (or whatever that crapulence is called) become more sensitive with age? Perhaps it is the fact that I now have a garden. I look out every morning at bulbs that I planted with my own fair hands before Christmas and they are growing and flowering as promised by mother nature and Homebase, and so I start the day with a sterling sense of accomplishment. Which - entirely misplaced though it may be - nevertheless puts me in a better frame of mind than simply sucking down coffee while berating myself inwardly for failing to get up early/clean the kitchen/become a doctor according to how deeply I wish to plumb the depths of self-loathing before showering.
Whatever the reason, it makes exercising ... I almost said "much more pleasant" there, which makes me think that daffodils should be regulated under the Dangerous Drugs Act, because a more accurate description would be "noticeably less vile and hateful". In some inverted version of the pathetic fallacy, the weather makes me feel happier, thinner and fitter already, so shifting my carcass seems neither as difficult nor as futile. And jumping on one's bike in the sunshine and riding through parks is an infinitely more rewarding experience than battling through scything winds. I go further and faster, without even muttering poisonous imprecations under my breath, and return invigorated rather than exhausted and miserable.
It won't last, I suspect, but while it does, I shall attempt to spread the joy.
· Next week: Tim Dowling will be skipping