Hey ding a ding, ding

In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;
Sweet lovers love the spring.

"It Was a Lover and His Lass," William Shakespeare

Spring has sprung in London. Actually, spring sprung several weeks ago, when the daffodils bloomed in bright yellow and cream bunches all over the city's parks. We're in tulip season now, although they are starting to look blowsy and overblown, like a ladette who's stayed too long at the pub. But it's spring! And it's semi-temperate! I can walk outside without assistance from wool, down or polar fleece!

It even reached summer temperatures last week. At lunchtime, office workers all over town gathered wherever open public space could be found to soak up every available ray. The sun stayed high in the sky until 8 p.m. or so (playing havok with my sense of time) and any sidewalk or even street in the vicinity of a pub was overcrowded with people come evening. London became one big outdoor cocktail party.

I love it.