The May sunshine has given me a heat rash, more freckles than necessary and a spurt of weeds that require the digging of an archaeologist; not to mention bird shit. There is enough on my car to fertilise a few pots and enough on the window to make me get out cleaning equipment, which haven’t seen the light of day since lockdown.
As I write this I am staring out of my loft window at an elderly seagull staring back at me, like it is my fault there is bugger all to eat. He has been there for...