It’s the second weekend in March.
I should be enjoying the lengthening days, watching the buds and blossom as they start to appear, and looking ahead to the Spring with the optimism of a new-born King. Instead I am sitting in bed with a chesty cough, with the garden outside waterlogged and a covering of frigging snow on the hedges.
No wonder I feel like throwing myself out of the window.
RC 9-3-13
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