The leaves are starting to take their rightful place on the trees again. The sun shines bright, but the air is cold, and crisp. Mother ducks lead their offspring in the mucky water down the canal, while boat-owners set up shop on the walkway and invite passers-by to marvel at their homemade jewellery, and sell off their succulents at near cost, in the hope of closing up early, so they can wander back into their homes for a well-earned cup of tea, and the chance to tackle their half-finished crossword. The squeals of schoolchildren inoculate the air and are synonymous with the birds sitting high in their trees, talking, laughing, singing.
It's here.
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