One of the reasons I love living in the City, after living in the silent back-end of Suburbia for twenty-five years, is going out after breakfast and making the short walk to the florist to buy daffodils. It’s this and other conveniences, like the five minutes it takes between getting out of bed and arriving at Starbucks when you have no milk in the fridge for breakfast, that have landed me irrevocably in love with living in the City, and in particular Chester.
Shortly after setting out from the flat, I’m back here at my desk, and there is a beautiful spread of Daffodils next to me, making everything more cheerful. Flowers can be seen as somewhat of a frivolity, especially when it’s hard enough to find the money to buy food and essentials, particularly for students, but some things are important. I am currently, to put it bluntly, skint. It’s a long time until the next student loan instalment, I’m overdue on my rent, and can barely find train fare to get home or buy milk, but for 95p I’ve bought myself a little explosion of morale and encouragement, to sit on my desk and brighten up my day. Little things like flowers, as extraneous as they may be, make you smile, and your problems don’t seem as bleak.
The sun coming in through the open windows, together with an enlivening breeze, and floral prints on bedding and clothes, make one feel like Spring is really here, and everything that goes with sunshine, bare legs, sandals, picnics, bike rides, beaches and barbeques. It lifts everything up, and the torpor and stagnation of winter, that you didn’t even realise was weighing you down, is suddenly lifted, and everything feels lighter (in terms of weight, and illumination).
As I typed that last sentence, Music When The Lights Go Out by The Libertines started playing (my itunes is on shuffle). It’s moments like this, when a beautiful song which means so much to me suddenly appears when I least expect it, that really move me.