I'd had a most wonderfully moving morning.  Tears; glorious, cathartic, joyous tears. Tears over the perfect ending of something marvellous.  Tears too, at a touching honour paid to me.

Thus equipped, even the most mundane of chores seemed blessed, so I popped out to buy a few bits and pieces.

I emerged (to use the cliché) blinking into the sunlight.  And was assaulted by the beauty of spring.

The may blossom was out, burying me in its heady perfume.  The verges seemed to be exploding with a billion tiny flowers.  The sun was just warm enough to lift the heart, but the air was cool and fresh,  full of promises and possibilities.

To mark the moment appropriately, on the wall of a corner house, a Virginia Creeper, just testing its new spring world with fresh green leaves.

I was grinning like a loon by the time I walked back through the front door of my block of flats.  Much to the alarm, I fear, of my neighbour!