Although it is springtime, and a particularly glorious one at that, I’ve never thought of this time of year as a beginning. It’s always been the end of things – the school year, examinations, friendships wrapping up, relationships concluding as the promise of summer beckons.
It is odd, then, to be starting something new today. Something which, if all goes well, will neatly sit over the summer like a parasol.
It’s also the return of my train-scrawl, writing as the carriage not so gently bounces and bucks.