There was a hint of spring in the sunlight today. It might have been that the taxi driver had loaded my coat in with the suitcase and rucksack in the boot so that when I got out at Oxford station, I was wearing a jumper and, amazingly, surprisingly, it just wasn’t freezing.
The light was pale and the sun barely warm. Perhaps that’s what made me feel hopeful for spring - sharp shadows and blue sky, weak sun and a lull in that bitter wind I often get outside that particular railway station.
Every now and then you need a change of season. You need a shunt out of the last thing, a push into the next one. I like markers. - first day when a coat isn’t needed, barbecues and matches in the foyer of Sainsbury’s, green leaf on the car, dappled sun.
A pigeon chased a bit of a Greggs pasty around the platform. It stepped and bobbed in and out of its own long shadow, pecking at the pastry, feathers glinting with a crescent of sunshine on its back.
It’s still January of course. Nevertheless, change is coming.
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