In the spring

First a howling blizzard woke us,
Then the rain came down to soak us,
And now before the eye can focus -
Crocus.
Lilja Rogers


What's not to like about this time of year? Writers get quite drunk on springtime clichés, but there's some excuse when one sees snowdrops, daffodils and crocuses. The ones above were snapped in the local park this morning.

And, of course, a writer may get quite drunk in a more literal sense, as it might be at a beer festival. In this part of the Midlands, the early part of the year is stiff with them, and they're excellent opportunities to try some beers that would be hard to find in the local pubs. Here I am with my study materials, last Saturday.














Yes, I'm afraid I do tick off the ones I've had, but no permanent record is kept, I assure you. It's just a technique for finding out how many I've had should – for any reason – memory prove fallible the next day. (It has been known.)

Yet another good thing about this time of year is the planning. Today I have made bookings for not one, but two folk festivals - Shrewsbury and Bromyard. These are excellent occasions. I expect what you have in mind when you think 'folk festivals' is beards, Morris dancing, tankards and wheezy melodeons. Well, yes, that's about right, though there are some other instruments involved, and possibly some singing, too. And what more could you want than to experience them in beautiful surroundings with a real ale tent close at hand?