Well Spring has sprung. And brought with it its good friend Gale Force Winds.
I haven't been battered around like this since the last time I playfully punched my brother a little bit too hard. It's lucky I don't wear MC Hammer style trousers - I don't think I would've made it back to the office.
Still, it's actually quite mild out, and at least the wind is sweeping away the pervading smell of Diamond White and wee that usually characterizes Hammersmith, particularly around the tramp's urinal outside the Lyric Theatre.
On the downside, it's playing havoc with my hair. And to be quite honest, it's already looking a bit too much Jamie for my liking as it is.