Ups and Downs in England.

This morning I went for my customary Thursday walk which takes me up the tree-lined Hollow en route to the fairy glen above the village. As always at this time of year I was reminded of Robert Browning’s immortal and evocative line:

Oh to be in England now that April’s here.

The day matched the sentiment, being mild, calm, and sunny, and the whole Shire being awash with the whites, the yellows, the blues, and the pinks of wild spring flowers and well trained cherry trees in many a cottage garden. And on the way I met a comely young woman and her boisterously friendly young dog, and was the beneficiary of much enthusiastic fussing and evident delight in my company (by the dog, you understand, not the comely young woman. Heaven forbid at my age.)

Life in an English April felt worth having after all.

This afternoon I needed to contact Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs to get a simple answer to a simple question. After half an hour of frustration and primal inner screaming I was no nearer to reaching the object of my simple quest. And then the phone signal failed anyway, so I gave up.

And life returned to normal.