The first day of Spring- oh what sweet joy!

The first day of Spring- oh what sweet joy!


Oh what sweet joy! The seasons keep passing and finally winter has slipped back into that dark cupboard in your home, consigned to that dusty corner of your attic where once the choking cobwebs cramped our style. Today is officially the first day of spring and across the nation trumpets, bells and whistles have heralded the new season with the kind of reception we would probably reserve for a major birthday or anniversary.

You must have done it by now. You've flung open your curtains or blinds, squinted at those bright, light sunbeams cascading through your windows like a powerful river and then breathed an enormous sigh of relief. Thank goodness for that I hear you cry. We thought it would never get here. We thought we'd have to wait at least another month or so before the first daffodils displayed their familiar, foot  loose and fancy free finery and their royal regalia. Nor did we think that those cuckoos would ever make themselves heard ever again and maybe we'd given up on the tulips because they must have been convinced that the winter snows would never clear and disappear.

But fear not we all woke up this morning in Britain today and the coast is clear. Before you know it the first sounds and acoustics of spring will be alive and well and full of encouraging omens. Admittedly, those tree branches still look very nervous and exposed, bare quite definitely and desperately craving that lovely coat of green which give them such a distinguished look during the summer.

Now though it's time to celebrate that invigorating blast of much warmer weather, that sharp injection of sunlight that penetrates deep into your bones and makes you feel so good. Suddenly we can almost  feel the refreshing warmth, a good old fashioned dose of new and pristine shades rather than that dull and grey blanket of winter that hung across the land like a curtain that hadn't been washed for ages.

Shortly, our old allies will be returning back for their yearly visit. Pesach(the Jewish passover) and Easter, that heavily symbolic tribute to chocolate eggs, are poised, ready and waiting to usher in a startling sequence of ritualistic spring festivals. Isn't it amazing that year after year we keep telling ourselves that the winters are getting colder and never seem to end only to find that patience is indeed a virtue? Springtime always seems to come around eventually so it's time to dig out those dusters and cloths for a thorough session of cleaning because that's what spring is all about.

Indeed it is the season of spring cleaning, that marathon spell of sweeping, de- cluttering, clearing out drawers, disposing of old papers, folders, sweet wrappers, surplus clothes we haven't worn for at least 20 years and generally removing rubbish and detritus. Then we discover a wonderful set of family photos that seem to have been mouldering away for ages and we can never think why. What about those old dining room candles and brass candle sticks or the Space Hopper which should have gone in the skip at least 40 years ago?

There is a real sense of excess and neglect in the air. How long now have we allowed everything to fall into rack and ruin? We've forgotten about the records which we once so proudly cherished  are now no longer necessary and have passed their sell by date. At the time we must have thought they were indispensable and vital but now they looked cracked, shabby and ready for the bin. When was the last time we could play those 78s because our parents thought they were cool. at the time? But 78s  were superb fun at the time and our parents must have loved playing them over and over again.

The truth is that spring seems the ideal opportunity to polish up that fading brass, to bring back to life those splendid board games that always left us in a state of euphoria over Christmas. Now we look forward to summer village fetes, dizzying maypole dancing and then rowing down the River Cam in Cambridge. Life is all about living for the moment and spring is seemingly all about the outdoors rather than indoors.

From Sunday onwards the days will get progressively longer, the pub gardens will become more densely populated and you can still take your dogs for a walk at 5.00 in the afternoon without worrying about the lack of light. At long last you can venture out on long walks in the country, up and down meandering hills, stopping only to drop into charming tea shops or wandering around ageless antique shops that may well have been there for as long as anybody can remember.

This Saturday Britain welcomes back another hardy perennial. It's the Boat Race between those two feuding universities, two of the highest and loftiest seats of learning, education and academia. Oxford and Cambridge will once again be going hammer and tongs for bragging rights on the River Thames. By now the Boat Race has almost become carved into the sporting calendar in perpetuity. In fact you shudder to think what would happen if the Boat Race had been unforgivably overlooked or just completely forgotten about. The cost and penalty would be severe. Oxford and Cambridge would probably take everybody to court and the consequences would be deeply felt.

Suddenly the seasonal shift feels much more pronounced, the grasses look significantly greener and those tiny buds of spring have made a welcome appearance in our gardens, parklands and sylvan pastures. The cherry blossom is back again with its stunning tableau of pink and sooner or later the street pavements will be like confetti on the ground, scurrying around faster and faster around in ever increasing circles.

Before you know it we'll all be thinking about our summer holidays, where the musical sound of exotic chickens blends seamlessly with the gentle tinkle of ice in Spanish tequila. May and June though, seem like distant continents at the moment and now maybe is the time to check Expedia.com for a bargain basement holiday next to somewhere totally idyllic where nobody can find us.

Still for the time being let's all anticipate the sweetly piping cuckoos forever serenading us with their very special brand of easy listening melodies. I suspect that sooner or later the runners and joggers will be up and about at the Woodberry Wetlands, a natural haven, where the birds and butterflies will almost inevitably make their summer home without any disturbance at all.

How good does it feel? At long last we can all run through those endless cornfields, gaze awe struck at those neat and well disciplined rows of daisies and think of the world as a decent and safe place to live in. Of course there are those who believe quite fervently that if certain politicians were to get their way we'd all be in a much worse place than could possibly be imagined.

For now though let's look forward to the spring equinox, the Easter rabbits hopping athletically from one spot of woodland to the next, the glorious snapping and crunching of Jewish matzos, moreish and absolutely addictive. At the moment I'm wearing my trusty pullover but I'd like to think that it won't be long before T-shirts and shorts become the order of the day. There is also an optimistic part of me that believes that England just might win the football World Cup in Russia this summer. There is, after all, no harm at all in dreaming.