There's a beautiful cherry tree outside our office that seems to have held back its modesty until this week, and now it's making up for lost time with a blowsy candyfloss explosion of coral-pink blossom. Apparently this year the blossom has been better than in recent years due to the combination of weather since last autumn. The tree outside is testament to this news, as it looks particularly lovely today, picked out in sharp contrast against the cerulean sky.

One of the poems I had to learn at school was 'Loveliest of trees' by AE Housman, taken from his famous 'Shropshire Lad' cycle. It didn't mean much to me at school, seeing as I was of course immortal at that age. I remember that I used to amuse myself by reciting it in the voice of Michael Caine. It means a bit more to me now, especially as I live near the 'blue remembered hills' that Housman wrote about so eloquently. Interestingly, Housman wrote most of the Shropshire Lad poems whilst living in London, before he had ever visited those Shropshire hills (about thirty miles from his home), which he presented in an idealised pastoral light, as his 'land of lost content'. It's not a particularly good poem, but the words have stuck very strongly in my mind since the age of 10, and I still know it word perfect.