The arrival of spring and the easing of lockdown has brought new optimism. Please don’t batter it into submission again
I went off spring for a while. When you’re a kid, spring is a time as thick and ripe with ritual as Halloween or Christmas – pancake day, then daffodils, becoming very obsessed with lambs being born for some reason, then Easter itself, where your school takes a brief trip to a local church (“That guy got murdered, look! That guy got murdered in the gothest way possible. Anyway, here’s some chocolate – ”), and then sunlight ripples through the cold and you forage in the garden for Easter eggs. But in adulthood my springtime has basically just been “finding out what wacky flavour of hot cross bun Aldi has invented this year” and “arguing with my housemates about why the fluted special edition mug they got with their Yorkie Easter egg does not deserve pride of place in a carefully curated mug cupboard that features many, many stouter and superior mugs”. The dazzle, it’s safe to say, was gone.