Well,
hasn't it been an utterly glorious week so far, weather-wise?
I am getting to enjoy the changing scenery around the sites, and to enjoy them
without the crazy hustle and bustle of thousands of people milling about like
what we had over Easter. Don't get me wrong, we're still very busy, but we're
not crammed to the rafters and there aren't so many youngsters scurrying around
underfoot and giving me heart attacks every time I walk past the play area, or
an open bit of water. So it's been most pleasant.
We
had quite a discussion in the office this week about when Spring really starts.
It seems to be an annual thing - this debate about where March 1st, or March
21st, or Easter Monday, or some other arbitrary date should count. Our
conclusion was that it can be a personal thing. James the gardener said it's
when the first bluebells start to show, Jessica who helps with the marketing
stuff said it's when she first eats tea at 6pm in daylight, and several old
Suffolk folk agreed that it should be when you hear your first cuckoo.
And
I'm delighted to say that, when Philippa and I were out walking with the boys
in a lovely part of the county on Sunday, we very clearly heard a cuckoo! So,
whichever way you look at it, and whichever classification you use, Spring has
well and truly Sprung.
Meanwhile,
thank God, my golfing date with Gavin is cancelled. I cannot express my relief
in words.
RC 30-4-25
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