It’s always hard to know what to celebrate on May Day bank holiday weekend. Should we be watching out for witches hastening through the dark on their broomsticks on Walpurgis night? Should we be lighting the beacons for Beltane? Crowning the Queen of the May? Or dancing round the Maypole in honour of the start of summer?
The August bank holiday weekend is just about at an end.
Despite it having been the longest, hottest summer in who knows how long, yesterday we had torrential rain and today has been as grey and breezy as might have been expected if global warming had never been invented.
Nowadays, most people seem to overlook Good Friday, but I thought it was an excuse to leave my desk for a while.
It’s been a glorious sunny day, but I didn’t take my camera when I went out, so rather than my usual habit of seeing things through a lens darkly, I actually looked directly at all the yellow flowers of spring: the daffodils peeking over garden walls, the primroses nestling in the uncut grass, the brighter yellow of celandines and, perhaps brightest of all, the shaggy-maned dandelions.
This lovely camellia stood out as such a different colour that I was tempted to try and capture it on my phone. With wind and rain forecast for tomorrow, I don’t think those blossoms will last long, so I am glad I was brought up to think of Good Friday as a holiday.
It’s Bank Holiday weekend. Not May Day weekend, as it should be; nor yet “Spring bank holiday”, as I thought it might be. It’s simply “Early May bank holiday”, an anodyne phrase with no dangerous political connotations to offend or inspire.