spring is sprung

Or at least sprunging. Do you know how I can tell?

Its not the brightness of the light, or anything to do with birds or flowers or trees, nononono.

I live in London, remember. We have more obvious way.

Bursting through the grey London ground are colourful beacons of spring, red, and yellow, and flashing. Apart from the temporary traffic lights of spring, which dont seem to work at all. All around the springing colours, wildlife appears, scurrying around the base of their blooms like luminous bees with bloody big drills. And speaking of it – yes, yes, far off, I think I hear the call of the first pneumatic pavement crusher of the year.

You see, the penny-clever borough councils of north London – I have learnt in the last three years – do the same thing, year in year out.

They spend absolutely cock-all on road maintenance and works etc ALL year, until the curbs are crumbling at the edges and each bus ride near knocks the fillings out of your teeth. And then, suddenly, in February, they tot up the books and realise that yes, they HAVE got enough money to look after the roads after all, so they suddenly do a years worth of work, AllAtOnce.

One day you look out of the window and realise your bus is on seven diversions, and youre still grundling over unfinished gravel because there just arent any more diversions they can take.

Spring has sprung.

The other morning, I sat inside, eating my breakfast and listening to a familiar thud thud thud on the road on the other side of my window. And then I left, and found them putting in new belisha beacons by the zebra crossing. Next to the old belisha beacons. Springing them up, they were, like giant daffodils in their meadow of striped barriers and heavy machinery.

And then they went away, and left them there. Next to the old ones. And, you know, Im really glad that the Hackney Borough council are spending this much on pedestrians wellbeing. I just have to wonder whether they might of put them slightly further apart. Although, if Im honest, I do like our new giant meadow.

A bit.