Sumer is icumen in

For some reason I didn't get to bed till the small hours so when my alarm went off at 5 this morning I very, very nearly ignored it.

But didn't. I knew the weather was going to be unusually good for May Morning, a ceremony that goes back 500 years in Oxford, and as I walked with hundreds of others towards Magdalen Bridge it was clear that some had had about four hours less sleep than I'd had and were fuelled only by alcohol.

By 6 I was standing at the foot of the Magdalen tower to listen to the choristers sing in May then, as the prayer started, I heard shouting nearby. For a moment I was irritated by the interruption until I saw it was a young man draped in a Palestinian flag and I immediately thought about how Palestinian ceremonies, prayers and lives are interrupted, day after day after day, not by nearby shouting but by falling bombs. Of course he was quickly removed by the police, but I hope by then he had touched more people than just me.

I walked along the High, into Radcliffe Square and on to Broad Street to watch the music and dancing in the streets (mostly through the arches of other people's arms held together with mobiles) and bumped into several people I know, one of whom had spent yesterday evening helping to dress this Green Tree.

Extras of a green child and a multi-coloured family.

Back home, my sleep catch-up was interrupted by someone banging on the door reminding me to vote. I hadn't forgotten but reluctantly decided to go out straight away so I could have the rest of the day in peace. Which I used mostly on very overdue tidying and cleaning. I so hate that work but admit the house looks much less squalid now.