It may be something to do with putting the clocks forward, but there seemed to be more than the usual amount of daylight this evening. There was quite a summery feel about things as I pottered about the garden, trying to make it look less dead. And then in the kitchen, as I casually threw some ingredients together to make a nutritious yet colourful dinner, the daylight still hung around, as if it wasn't sure what to do.
The downside to all of this is that, somewhere along the line, I lost an hour of my life. This does not seem much – although, now I come to think of it, it is actually quite concerning: there are only so many hours left to any of us, and it seems a shame to waste one of them simply by taking it away, without even asking my opinion on the matter. They say, those who understand these things, that we get the hour back some time in the autumn. But by then I might have forgotten what I was planning to do with it.
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