Light at the end of the...

It may seem an odd day to like but December 21, the Winter solstice, is one of my favourites. Because it is the day on which we start the long climb back to the warm days of spring and summer. And on Friday it felt like one of the lower summits of that climb had been reached. At the moment my journey to work coincides with sunrise and on Friday, as the tube train was slowing down near Parson's Green, we passed a narrow gap between two buildings through which the brazen light of the rising sun was being squeezed. As we passed a thin bar of warm light passed over everyone in the carriage like we were being scanned by some alien intelligence. I had my back to it and I felt its warmth pass over my head like a caress. People looked up, squinted into it, squirmed under it as it moved through the car and silence fell as it passed through. For a moment, a long moment, there was a palpable sense of presence. Like spring walked among us, reminding us it existed and giving us a taste of the summer and languid days to come. Fabulous.