Photography

In Bloom

If y’know, real, the wild flowers growing at the Rococo Gardens back home (and the blossom on the trees outside Southwark Cathedral) are anything to go by, Spring is coming. Lambs are in the fields, my Mother reports that the two fat lady cows in the field near our house have borne calves, chicks will be hatched and invariably, girls who should not go near pastel colours are finding themselves increasingly attracted to washed aqua while we all wax lyrical about a season that only really seems to occur in Bambi. But y’know, I’m mellowing in my old age, and short of having to look at a corned, yellowing heels in badly fitting sandals as I go up the tube escalator, I’m sort of looking forward to the world warming up again. It’s all very well being warm and cosy, and having excuses to order hot chocolates when you should really be supping filters with skinny milk, but I’m telling you: that first walk to work in a t-shirt is going to feel so good you’re going to forget you even liked wearing opaque tights.

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