The joy of springing forward

I'm not a fan of winter.

I think it has something to do with the fact I was born slap-bang in June, apparently in the middle of a heatwave so intense the midwife's face was burned to a seared crisp before I forward-rolled out of my mother's womb. I was a summer child and have grown up to a summer man.

Hence - I never fail to get excited when we 'spring forward' end of March because, to me, it's a sign that summer isn't far away - despite the fact there might still be a shrill wind and it'll be pissing down. Not that it doesn't do that IN summer, but you get my general wandering potent guff of a drift.

This year, I was indoors when the clock tunneled forward and we lost an hour. Suddenly, I'm rolling happily along at 1am when BANG!, it's getting on for half 2! This is the one and only downside - I could have done so much in that hour! Wrote something, ate something, watched something, drafted another declaration of peace in the Middle East for Palestine - all kinds of things. But no, alas, it's gone.

On the flipside, we can look forward to increasingly drawn out nights, the meridian being at least half 7 now for darkness. Why this pleases me so much, I don't know. It's just more light. You can still do things in the dark. I suspect if I was a mugger or rapist, I'd infact be right browned off at all this Daylight Savings business.

I'm not, in case you were wondering. Right browned off OR a mugger/rapist, that is.