Spring, having sprung, sprang abruptly backwards. Undeterred - well, deterred but fleecily-wrapped - Hazel and I set off on a Sunday visit to Stourton Garden (not recommended; as Hazel put it:" There's something about struggling beauty choked by wildness which is profoundly poignant, but charging £3.50 for the privilege of walking round this site of devastation is bare-faced cheek") and a plod around Alfreds Tower in between bursts of sleet. The week stayed icy cold for our Equinox celebrations - burning detritus of the past as well as invoking new beginnings.
And this is where Peter and I are headed now... I kept going to Do-I-Need-A-Jacket-dotcom to check that No, I don't - because in Crete the air really is 10 degrees warmer than here...
I don't plan to blog much while in transit; this is essentially a notebooks-and-pen trip, as we're backbacking along coastal paths with minimum rucksack load.
So, updates will be sparse and - until I get back - imageless. Normal service will resume in May. (Just keep telling funky-poetry-fans about onomatopoeia, now at 343 views.) Last word to Mike - with thanks for the lend of a picturecard so's I can store cerulean images by the score: "Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away."
Enjoy April! Peter & I will.