Starting a blog was meant to be something in the lines of a New Year's resolution, but it has been kept about as tentatively as it was made. So this is a renewed effort.
This is my first day back in Oxford after ten days or so in Sweden over Easter. It's funny how a place grows on you. When I was in Sweden coming back here felt like a bit of an effort, a bit of a strain, but now I'm here I've slotted right back in. Spring is well ahead of Sweden here, with the more eager of the chestnuts already in full bloom, bluebells among the thriving weeds in the garden and the magical and startling realisation that summer may after all be more than an beautiful myth. I started reading a book about Linnaeus, and this was, unsurprisingly, his favourite time of year. There's the sadness of an ending to full-blown summer that so quickly ushers in the harvest. And yet I suppose at the end of the day, the harvest was the point of the whole thing.