The weather in London at the mo is splendid - warm, sunny and basically a joy. It's that period of the year when you sense the sap rising, which makes it difficult to concentrate on the usual emetic impedimenta that life habitually hurls at one. Collective thoughts turn to boozy picnics in parks and walks along the river with physically attractive companions.
Experience suggests we should savour these spring days as the actual summer in this country (England) tends toward the underwhelming. It's all chewing-gum grey skies and tepid humidity in these parts come June. It does go to show, however, that happiness is all about managing expectations, which is why my default position is to assume that absolutely everything will be shite. Due to this, I am rarely disappointed, and just occasionally delighted by the fates. I'll settle for that.
