BLAME IT ON THE SUNSHINE

I’m going to have to keep it brief today, because time is, as they have been known to say, of the essence (although, despite the fact that they might say it, I’m not really sure if I fully understand what that actually means…) as I have chosen to squander it in less cerebral pursuits in recent days so that, rather than parking myself next to a keyboard and weaving my web of words to beguile and astonish you (I’m sure...), I have been whittling away at my time in less productive activities like waking up and smelling the heather, and seizing the day (such as it is) although only in a truly metaphorical sense, of course.

In other words, the sun’s come out.

It’s been an unusually bright and sunny old weekend here in our frosty corner of the omniverse across the last few days which will, of course, end up being the very same few days we find ourselves looking back upon fondly once again as having been our entire actual summer, as the sleet and hailstones hammer down on our heads in July and August. More and more often in recent times it seems that our very best weather is coming earlier and choosing not to hang around for the duration, but preferring to go off and spend its own summers somewhere far more picturesque.

So, we have to make the most of it, although I suspect that my own use of the word ‘most’ here wouldn’t quite pass muster in the exciting maelstrom of activity that makes up your own life. Nevertheless, other activities have been afoot, and the odd window has even been known to open and (dare I mention it?), I have even been known to venture outside without shoes.

These warm and pleasant days do of course bring with them all manner of distractions. Instead of venturing towards a keyboard in a semi-darkened room, the sun rises beyond the hills and tempts me to go outside where, instead of containing the usual chill and frost, the air is warm and fresh and still not tainted by the traffic of the day, and I can sit on my bench and watch the sun rise and the birds feed whilst reading my book and sipping at my morning coffee, instead of lurking in the dark and thinking my bitter thoughts and choosing which of them to share with you today.

Those days that I can consider to be my own, although sadly not those I prostitute to the corporate capitalist machine, can be spent tilling the soil and watching the insects buzz around the few plants that have survived winter’s onslaught and popped into belligerent colour. Meanwhile I will continue in my attempts to keep the sun off my vulnerable skin, with occasional stops for long cooling drinks and the odd alfresco sandwich, as I try to keep the weeds under control as they surge through the garden with new-found strength and vigour, all things that keep me from my suddenly less urgent-seeming need to tell my dark little tale to a brutal, unforgiving world which has itself become somewhat distracted anyway.

Of course, the lighter mornings bring their own problems to the seasoned insomniac as the birdsong of the dawn chorus is now greeting the day much sooner than it once did and the brightness of the early morning skies is lightening the bedchamber at the hours I used to spend fretting in the darkness, so instead I’m fretting in near daylight which still causes me to get up and face the day anyway. So I expect I’ll still be finding the usual things to do in those sleepless hours despite everything, just with less tripping over unexpected objects or tentative navigation down suddenly unfamiliar seeming stairwells.

So you can blame my brevity this morning on the sunshine, probably less so on the good times, and, for the moment, not at all on the moonlight. Just do not ever, ever make the mistake of blaming it on the boogie.

Not in my case, anyway.