Sprung

Or twisted. This corkscrew hazel at the tennis club caught my eye as I left this evening with its buds appearing to confirm the arrival of spring.

Tennis was not the sport of choice tonight; I had my second squash lesson which left me puce in the face, worryingly breathless and gasping for air and water. Three of us were involved in this torture and I was by far the weakest link. Our Polish coach demonstrated an air of patience and only rolled his eyes when I had my back to him as I lolled against the wall trying not to die.

In other news, the census form was duly completed and the clocks all changed. I know when I have to get up at what my body thinks is 5am tomorrow morning I'm going to be unbearable.