Tuesday, February 28, 2006

It Can’t Come Quickly Enough 

Rex the security guard leaned on his spade and paused to catch his breath. A robin perched on his shoulder.

“What are you planting?” I asked.
“Oh nothing. I’m just putting in some pre-season training.”
He mopped the sweat from his brow.

“Winter’s a long time in the garden,” he said. “Once you’ve tidied up about the place, there’s nothing much to do but sharpen your tools and wait for Spring.”
I nodded sagely.
“Still,” I said. “The nights are starting to draw out. It was light at six last night, just about.”

A hedgehog emerged bleary eyed from beneath a pile of leaves and old data cartidges. It sniffed the air, had a pee and scratched it’s arse, then went back to bed.

“I used to think that that Seasonal Affective Disorder you hear about was a load of bollocks,” I said, “but, you know, well…”

Neil, my former team leader, ran across the croquet lawn tossing his pancakes.

“… I dunno.” I shrugged. “It probably is all bollocks.”

Some days it’s like somebody dropped a couple of wet sheep onto my chest. It’s the best that I can do just to try and keep breathing.

“Crocuses are doing well,” said Rex. “And the snowdrops.”
“Daffodils won’t be long now,” I added.

He said you can spend your life waiting for this moment.
I said it can’t come quickly enough.

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