This morning, on my way through to the vegetable garden, I note white blossom to left and right. There are two white clematis, a choisya spreading its fragrance, a cherry still in flower, lilies-of the valley; a bride dressing for her wedding would not be out of place.
A third of the way through May and the cold wind from the north intensifies. The sun goes in and it is even colder. "It's going to snow tonight," says a doom-monger with relish. People walk about in hoods, their hands in their pockets. "It's the Government's fault," says Peter at Hall's bookshop.