Spring; looking up

It’s the first day of Spring, although by my way of thinking it has been Spring for a little while, as I tend to reckon it in Pagan terms (old habits die hard), which place springtime at the beginning of February when the snowdrops start to flower.

In just over a week the clocks will go forward and I can savour half a year of longer days; I hope they don’t go too quickly.  The last couple of weeks have sped by quickly and it will be no time at all before I am on the move again, into a real house rather than the flat I have been occupying for the last six months.

In many ways I will be glad to leave here although there are certain conveniences to living in a flat.  The bills are cheap, there is a pub almost next door, it is easy to keep clean and the postman leaves packages from Amazon right outside the door rather then one of us having to trek off to the sorting office to collect them.

The disadvantages are rather higher in number.  Being on the second floor means that having a piano has been an impossibility; making any sort of noise whatever has rendered us undesirables and the neighbours look down their noses at those who are tenants rather than “real” owners.  There is also an extremely nasty book about serial killers on a bookshelf in the main entrance to the building.  Nice.

We are moving across the other side of the city centre, a little more than a mile away, to live in a late Victorian terraced house.  There is going to be a piano but it might not be possible to have a cat due to the completely extortionate fee the letting agents want to charge us for the privilege.  Maybe there will be a surreptitious cat at some point, but I will have to instruct him closely in the art of disguise, which could be challenging.

I have felt a bit better in the last day or so, but as I never know when my wayward brain is going to trouble me next, I intend to make the most of it.  I’m trying not to think about where the goalposts are today, but have placed them in the pending file for now whilst I do my best to enjoy the bank holiday.

It’s Spring - and it might snow.  There seems to be a reasonable prospect of a White Easter, but I doubt it will touch the part of the country I am in now.  Were I still in Birmingham, I could be waking up to white streets on Sunday morning. As I am further south now, it’s less likely.  I guess I’ll have to watch the pictures on the news instead.

I’m currently feeling the urge to write about some more of the other things that go on inside my head; it may well help me to write them down and it might help you to understand why I am a little strange.  I’m not sure what to start with; I’ll have to think about that.

And I must do some “real” writing; it’s ages since I have done any but the stories are still in my head.