It was a mild winter by British standards, I guess, and following last week's sad news about Sir Terry P it ended on a very low note for me. But there was a man who wanted nothing more than for the likes of you and I to smile - and to think.
That's what spring does to me - moreso as time passes (which is its unfailing wont, of course) - and this year in particular I am thinking more than ever. And whoever said 'coo, he means twice' should be shot. Slowly.
It really has got my brain buzzing though and all I seem to have been able to do this last week is think and plan (and work, but that's not exactly unusual). On a practical note, I'm busy restructuring the house here in readiness for a move to downstairs-only living - not exactly something that fills me with joy, but a process that will help me avoid the pitfalls of stairs in the early morning, with the emphasis on the syllable 'falls'.
Then there's my new website which holds, for me, the key to a distant, near-immobile, future - and one that will help bring emphasis to what I want to be doing with the spare time that is already beginning to fill my diary, so to speak.John MoneyWrites will be where I gather my stories (both long and short) when they start to be published later this year, and where I will showcase the services that I will offer. Perhaps age and a fascination with the English language, coupled with a necessarily sedentary lifestyle, will capture my interest in a far more public way than before.
But Spring.... I was always under the impression that MS sufferers tried to avoid warmth because it worsened the condition and I seem to recall horror stories about victims being stranded in hot baths and similar. Not true. Or at least not for me. And that's NOT because I haven't taken a bath for months...
I have found that cold conditions worsen my primary symptoms no end - and I'm not just referring to frequent visits to a sitting position while attempting to negotiate icy paths. Cold weather seems to weaken my already faltering sense of balance to a point where I have more chance of winning the lottery than I do of getting from house to car without discovering what concrete impacting with flesh actually feels like. Warmth on the other hand (hands and feet, to be more precise) seems to offer a tiny tiny fleck of additional feeling - and believe me, any addition is gratefully received.
The fact that I can't travel easily means that I am limited to the British climate, though, so Spring or not, the chances of warm days are remote. But at least there is the promise of warmer days.
As ever, I seek my 'Reasons to be Cheerful' (which includes listening to old Ian Dury recordings) and Spring offers me one in my condition, Spring cleaning is hardly an activity I can any longer indulge in. Oh dear, what a pity. Never mind. Don't let my smile dazzle you.
Mostly though, Spring brings the understanding that, temperature-wise, things are going to improve for a few months. And I like the extra daylight hours. Driving in the dark I find tiresome and dull, but somehow bright sunlight changes my perspective. I don't see myself as the new Lewis Hamilton exactly, but a car begins to feel more natural to me in the daylight hours (and yes I was something of a boy-racer type back in the day, although I was more of a mind to be James Hunt, such was the distant time - and not Fangio or Moss before anyone suggests that).
I have the distinct impression I'm something of a sun-bunny these days and that's got to mean that Spring is full of promise for the likes of me. Plus there's a few Bank Holidays coming up soon now.
Life's not so dull when the sun starts to shine and the frosts disappear - so long live Spring and its glorious green shoots.
Now... is it Summer yet?
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