The snowdrops and crocus have pushed their way through the frozen earth in Gordon Square; the mossy old tennis courts in Cartwright Gardens are alive to the whump of tennis ball on racquet, the smokers outside the British Library are emerging from the permafrost. Spring is springing and it’s good to be alive in Bloomsbury.
I took a walk along the Regents Canal, from Kings Cross to Regents Park, to welcome the new season. Wildfowl were lively and active all along the canal, with entertaining displays from diving moorhens and squabbling geese. Ducks did their comical, musical landing on the water, a flurry of decelerating wings and scrabbling feet before that lovely noise, as of glass shattering, as their feet hit the surface.
The tow path was busy with joggers, cyclists and folk walking their dogs. The lovely little backwater of St Pancras Lock was tranquil, and the enigmatic house boats emitted puffs of smoke. Further down, the usually
-less-than-tranquil Camden Lock was week-day quiet, a lone figure hosing down the market. Beyond the lock, those gorgeous big white houses with back gardens going down to the water sparkled in the sun. Oddly, a cow looked down from a balcony. It was a life-size model of a Friesian, but even so.
I pressed on to Regent’s Park, where the peacocks in the aviary squawked and pecked in the sun. Eventually one casually stretched his neck and unfurled that breathtaking, ridiculous shimmer of a tail feather. I bet he does that for all the girls.