Oh, wow. It is around the 20°C mark and my pale, bewintered skin and blinking eyes just don’t know what’s happened.
The sun is shining. The sky is cornflower blue and cloudless. I wake up in the morning to the sound of birds singing and bees buzzing and water trickling, and look out of my window at the spectacular sight of France and its mountains looming over the lake. The flowers are bursting into life. The warmth of the sunshine is like a lover’s caress, after this long winter of blizzards and minus temperatures. There are no hats and scarves to be seen; and in fact, the only snow in sight is that which is glittering brightly on the tops of the Alps, at the other side of the shimmering lake.
It is beautiful.
I take the dogs down to the park for a walk, and they trot along on their leads like little furry angels, tails wagging and shaggy heads looking all around them. I let them off the leads, and we run around joyfully for a while through the grass and the trees and the flowers. We return home, and I make sandwiches for a little outing to watch a Good Friday parade and have a picnic lunch.
I frickin’ love this job.
[Things I have omitted from this post: 1) The large wound on my arm, inflicted by an unnecessarily angry parrot, 2) All the bits that have involved me driving around and panicking and hesitating and getting lost and forgetting which side of the road I’m meant to be on, 3) The length of time it actually took me to attach the overly excited dogs to collars and leads and untangle them sufficiently to be able to walk to the park. But we don’t need to be bothered with all those little insignificant details on a nice day like today, do we?!]