I have always reveled in my hatred of early spring.
Winter in Scandinavia can be dark, dismal and bitterly cold, but there is nothing quite as off-putting as streets and parks emerging from beneath the snow for the first time in months, ready to reveal themselves in all their ugly nakedness.
And that pallid yet relentless light that has left the winter landscape in peace for so long. Day by day it invades our cities, not only helping to uncover all that depressing muck, but making it the unwanted foci of each and every passer-by.
You see stark but average skyline. I see defeat.