Terry Adlam Frightening the squirrels

To quote a poet of no fixed Wikipedia page, ‘Spring iz sprung, the grass is riz, I wonder where the birdies iz?’ and it’s time for me to bid ‘au revoir’ to those dark lingering mornings and prolonged gloomy nocturnal evenings.

It’s farewell from me to the skeletal branches of leafless trees, ‘cheerio’ to the monochromic vestiges of Mother Nature and ‘see you next year’ to scarves, gloves and big coats.

I watch with glee as winter retreats to tend its wintery wounds.

Now I say welcome to the daffodils that rise like spring zombies from their once frost harden graves, smile ‘hello; to the bountiful blossoms of the sturdy snowdrops and magnificent magnolias and ‘wotcha’ to the early dramatic dawns and late soothing sunsets.

It’s time for my thoughts to turn to spring cleaning including tidying the garden.

To consider redecorating those rooms that didn’t look so bad in the midwinter gloom. It’s time to realise that my postChristmas plans for a beach-ready body for the summer are far from being on schedule and hiding my winter plumage under scarves, gloves and big coats just won’t cut it anymore.

It’s time to plan unwanted weekend visits to crowded garden centres and mind-numbing queuing at a DIY megastore.

To continually cut and sweep up hedge clippings.

To rid the barbecue grill of months of cement like fat and congealed sauces of glue like constancy while cutting a lawn that refuses to stay trim.

To return to the gym so I don’t frighten the squirrels in my springtime attire.

To keep the car clean, to go on wasp invaded picnics, to socialise and over indulge on undercooked burgers, to sneeze through watery eyes at the first whiff of pollen, to sweat and to…

Hang on, when do the clocks go back?