You owe me...

A little bit of my namesake

Three years into my time in London and this whole ripping-shirts-off-at-the-first-sign-of-blue-sky thing that the natives do is slowly starting to make more sense (although I'll never understand the getting-into-bikini-in-the park-during-lunchtime-in-front-of-colleagues...just seems wrong and dirty). The best weather we had last year were the first two weeks of April. Rumors of a hot summers shot around town and, ultimately, dreams were dashed.

Cut to 12 months later and in recent mornings the sun-hungry and pasty lot packed in with me on the tube have amped up their hurumphing. Nerves are frayed all over the shop and you never feel far from a explicit shove or directed eye-roll.

So when I heard that Saturday was supposed to be a 'nice' day, expectations were low to say the least. But Saturday was the day of the year and I have to say, when London turns on a good day in Spring it surely turns it on good and proper. Wandering through De Beauvoir Town, a marvelous breakfast made for me, brain-storming over shandies in a beer garden and the world seemed a whole lot sweeter.

Sure I was a bit over confident with the no-socks thing this morning (rained on by 10.30...) but I think that one day gave me a tiny bit of hope that there might just be little bright light at the end of this great, grey tunnel. I have never felt like I deserved a summer so much in my life.