Well then. After my moaning about endless winter, the good old springtime made an appearance!
We’ve had a couple of days now of warm blue skies, and yesterday, on a lunchtime walk with my friend Luke, it was suddenly - beautifully, I should say - too warm for a coat.
I love it. The sky has been cloudless, clear and bright, and the shadows fall in crisp, dark contrast to the gold-painted trees and houses. The world, the morning, the freshness - is finally starting to feel like an Edward Hopper painting. About time too.
Luke was buoyant. He often is of course, but it was nice to stroll across the park feeling light and airy, discussing the issues of the day. It occurred to me how much like a gentleman’s club it felt, although instead of mahogany and leather, the ambience was much more grass and trees and low sunlight. Perhaps that’s how gents did business in those summer months when London was uninvitingly stuffy - twiddling their canes and striding through the park, gently touching the brims of their hats at the ladies, and remarking of course, on the clemency of the weather.
I can see me and Luke doing that. Though I’m not sure our wives would care much for us doffing our hats for passing ladies.
Nevertheless, it was a lovely moment. The first day I hope of a long, warm, hopeful spring. Goodness knows the world could use a little hope. In contrast to us loving the burgeoning springtime, geopolitics looks like it might descend into bitter winter. I don’t want to talk about it.
I suppose the gentlemen would have discussed such things. Luke’s more eloquent, more articulate than I am - and certainly faster at condensing his thoughts into things to say. I must remember to ask him what he makes of it all.
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