On Mill Lane and New Beginnings.

I met a man with three splendidly happy dogs while out walking in the sunshine today. The dogs and the supremely clement weather were mostly what we talked about, and then I mentioned the prospective return of the swallows. He said that he’d seen some further south in Austria last week, but he’d seen no sign of them here yet. Neither had I until I turned into Mill Lane and saw a single bird hunting around the farmhouse near the pub. It is famously said that ‘one swallow does not a summer make,’ but it’s certainly the harbinger of the season if not the proof of it.

But Mill Lane had still more on offer to pique my improving senses. As I approached the gate to the Lady B’s erstwhile abode, I saw her standing on the lawn around the back in the sunshine. She was wearing a long cotton frock appropriate to the precocious summer weather, and in front of it was the discreetest protuberance betraying an obvious but retrained hint of imminent motherhood. I've never seen her wearing a long cotton frock before, and I can say without fear of contradiction that I have never seen her looking lovelier. And I do say it unreservedly.

I considered walking down the drive to enquire as to the date on which deliverance is anticipated, but she had two young men with her and I thought it inappropriate. They were playing croquet. Besides, holding the twin emotions of sadness and joy - each maintaining station with its own impeccable credentials - in balance is difficult enough at the best of times. Walking on unnoticed offered the best solution.