Boing! That's The Sound Of Spring Having Sprung

This weekend the clocks finally changed, marking the official start of spring. I have to admit to breathing an enormous sigh of relief when this seemingly innocuous event rolls around each year. The problem is that I pretty much hate everything about winter. I'm sure in other parts of the world, winter is a mystical magical time of the year with happy jolly piles of snow everywhere or maybe even just a mild dip in the usual comfortably warm temperatures. In the UK though, it's six or seven months of unrelenting crushing miserable grey drabness. There is only a limited amount of patience I have for muddy grey midday skies and the constant threat of chilly drizzle. I am definitely a summer person. My brain tends to shut down in winter, and despite the fact that there are the same number of hours in the day, most of them aren't really useful in winter, because I'm too busy falling asleep early, waking up late and feeling that there is no point doing anything with my evenings because it has already been dark for hours, so must be nearly bed time by now.

This is why I am so excited by the changing of the clocks. Last night, it wasn't dark until about 7.30pm. By my estimate, that's about two hours of useful time after work. I don't necessarily need to use that time doing constructive gardening or DIY type things. I just need that time to be able to get on with life, and go for walks or even to simply look out of the window and know that the world isn't hibernating. And from here on in, it just gets better and better. In just a couple of months, the part of the day which is allotted as 'day time' will go on for hours after I clock off from work. The world will be my lobster. I will be chirpier, happier and more downright lovely then ever before.

Many of my friends hail from the north of England, and they don't like summer so much, particularly if it's hot. Their physiology is accustomed to bone-chilling frigidity and constant sideways rain. In the heat, they wilt and evaporate. I, on the other hand, cannot survive in low temperatures without the aid of seven jumpers and at least one winter coat. Roasting heat is a doddle though. Crank that business up to anything above 30 degrees celsius and I will start running at peak efficiency.

When Spring finally springs, I know I have all of this to look forward to, and it makes me happy. All I need now is for Britain's notoriously fickle climate to deliver. If it doesn't, I'm moving to the equator where I will set up an iron smelting factory and run a sideline in modelling thermal undergarments and massive padded coats.

Daily Tourettes: Frottage