Colour is returning to the flatlands, like the blush to a maiden’s cheek. The grass is greening up, and the trees are laden with blossom; from a distance it looks like freshly-popped popcorn. The scene is softened – for a few days, at least – by the pastel, candyfloss colours. It’s like finding youself in a particularly sentimental Walt Disney cartoon. You half expect a flock of bluebirds to land on your shoulder and trill in three-part harmony.
The trees are filled with songbirds, their little chests puffed out with springtime fervour. What they are actually singing about is anyone’s guess. Maybe it’s a heartfelt paean of love from a cock bird to his mate, as she sits on the nest and incubates the eggs. Or maybe it’s something more prosaic, like “This is my tree... clear off”.
A sunny day in April is quite a shock to the system. For the first time this year - but hopefully not the last - we have to shade our eyes against the harsh spring sunlight. The unforgiving light penetrates every cobwebbed corner of our homes, revealing what havoc has been wreaked by another winter of household neglect. Our failings and foibles are held up to the light as well, subjected to closer scrutiny than we either want or need.
Lewis Hamilton would feel at home in Gemma’s cottage: it's the pits. She'd like to do something about the mess, she really would. Getting rid of all those self-help books piled up on the coffee table would be a good start; they just make the place look untidy. Gemma compensates for her lack of home-making skills with an active fantasy life. She dreams about a life less cluttered: cooking candle-lit dinners for sophisticated friends, swapping recipes, having animated discussions about the vital issues of the day, not having to sniff the milk before pouring it into a glass.
She moves the sofa to see what's underneath, then moves it back again quickly. She waves a feather duster around, without much enthusiasm, succeeding only in whipping up the dust in thick clouds. Over recent months a deep layer of dust has helped to lag pipes, stop draughts and impart a silvery bloom to the pile of unread feng shui books. But now the dust seems to dance in the rays of light. It's Disney dust…
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