Which is what seems to have happened, what with snow to the top of the hedges and the woods gone all Brueghel. For those of you lucky enough to be in other parts of the world, this is what it looks like now. ‘Oh to be in England now that April’s there’ – Home Thoughts from Abroad is the title of that poem, of course, and I bet most of us are thinking the other way round just now.
Came down for breakfast this morning to find that daughters home for Easter had remembered the date and consequently filled coffee jar with raisins, put eggs in unlikely places etc. However we managed to catch one of them with heavily salted early morning tea. Revenge (unlike the tea) is sweet . . .