mostly david ephgrave

The plum tree my wife bought me for my fortieth has started showing tiny shoots and leaves, which is a handy metaphor for a new beginning as far as these things go. It's surprising what such a tiny aspect of the natural world can do for your mood. Sitting in the garden now in the sun has given me a burst of energy I didn't have before. It's like a balm for the mind. Until I moved out of Hitchin, I've never had a garden, aside from a communal one at my first flat, which we never used due to some deep-seated need to hide from our neighbours. It's the same reflex that makes you pretend you've not seen someone you know on the street, only more intense, as you've less reason to chat to the guy who banged on the ceiling the night before because you were listening to Bob Dylan too loudly. Oh, those carefree student days (when I swear no-one smoked wacky baccy). (For an insight into our antics, my flatmate Mark was once an hour late for his girlfriend because we wer...

At the risk of sounding twee, I love all the blossom that’s about at the moment. (That’s right: I love every single bit of it .) When I walked into town today, I made the conscious decision to pay attention to it. I took a longer route in fact, through the cemetery, so I’d see more of it. There’s a vast multitude of colour around at this time of year, if you make an effort to look out for it – and on a sunny day like today it has even more impact; fields, gardens, parks and roadsides across the UK are awash with white, blue and pink. It lifts the mood, like a flora-based antidepressant (as in vegetation; not margarine.) There's a tree near my house that's in full bloom. It only ever lasts a week or so before the wind does away with it, but those few days are worth it. In life, sometimes the simplest things are the best. I'll be off now to skip and dance around it; I knew I shouldn’t have smoked that jazz cigarette.