While waiting for a friend on the South Bank this evening*, I spent a languid fifteen minutes watching the sun set over Hungerford Bridge. It occurred to me in my reverie that we are at a fantastic time of year. Today was bright and refreshingly warm. The sky was clear and it was sunny enough to feel like Spring - especially with the clocks going forward at the weekend.
But! And here's the rub, people have not yet started spoiling it all by doing summer-specific things. I have not seen a single person with their legs out. There are no 'outdoor events' in specially erected tents. No ice-cream vans. No strappy tops. No barefoot in the park. Yet.
I like all that, don't get me wrong, but this feels lovely. It's like we've all been caught unawares by an unexpected treat. We're wandering around in a slight daze, happy but gently confused. Rubbing our eyes in the sudden illumination. Wonderful.
* and let us be brutally honest about this; perving politely over the pretty people, slightly. I said slightly.