It's starting to warm up in London. The birds are singing late into the evening, and the windows are starting to open all along the street. People are wearing shorts, and there's a definite scent of barbecue charcoal and paraffin on the gentle breeze. The cats have rediscovered the catflap

And me?

I've had my bi-annual haircut and no longer look like the slightly hairier-twin of Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall. In fact this time the barber seems to have been even more drastic than I expected, and I've ended up with the closest thing I've had to a short back-and-sides since, ooh, since I had my first job. Still, it's a definite weight off my shoulders...