I walked to the postbox just now, rushing to catch the last post (so, nothing new there, then). The sun was out, and bright. Almost sunglasses weather, but barely warm enough to venture out without a coat, and that only because the postbox is just a couple of hundred yards away. The birds were singing enthusiastically, and the air was full of smells of growing things; grass and bushes waking up, flowers in bloom, trees in blossom.
It really is the sort of day which makes you wonder where the first part of the year went.
We ventured to Ipswich this weekend to visit M&T, residents of that fair city. We had no plans to speak of, so Saturday opened out into a vista of leisurely lunch, a few drinks, and some boardgames; then dinner, and more games, and eventually we ambled the few yards to their nearby pub, chatted dozily over a pint, and then returned.
It would have been a pleasantly peaceful night, but for... no, first let me give you some background. Their street in Ipswich has parking by permit only, during the day on Monday through to Saturday, 8am to 6pm. When we arrived, T very kindly moved her car so that we could use her permit to leave ours outside; she moved hers again into the nearby college car park and left it there overnight (she'd thought about moving it back to the street after 6pm but dinner and drinks got in the way).
The interruption to the otherwise peaceful night was the police knocking on the door at 0230 to tell her that her car had been set alight and was now a charred wreck.
Er, oops. <guilty expression> (No, of course it wasn't me who torched it, but it probably wouldn't have happened if we hadn't wanted to park outside their place.)
I have to say she took it a lot better than I would have done in similar circumstances.
On Sunday, then, we had a late breakfast and then drove over to Sutton Hoo (no prizes for guessing whose car we took). The new exhibition centre there is very well laid out and designed; it was a shame the weather (driving rain) didn't really allow us to walk round the burial mounds. A pub lunch, a drive back, some more gaming and then a return to London, through more rain and some very suspect driving by our fellow inmates of the A12 and M25. I was particularly impressed by the guy who drove along for several miles with his hatchback open, and then stopped to close it. How on earth had he not noticed the extra noise, the spray coming in, the chill? Nutter.