Thomas and I have a strangely different approach to the end of winter. Neither of us are great fans of winter and the cold and wet. As the cold finally starts to lift and the blossom appears in the garden, Thomas visibly lifts in spirit and oozes calm and serenity at his new-found spring paradise. I get agitated. My feet become itchy. Suddenly, seeing the beautiful weather I am reminded of how much more beautiful the rest of the year is on mainland Europe and I want to jump in the car, drive South and move into a house by a river in a meadow such as this house in Doubs in France. Thomas thinks I am odd. He finds it hard to imagine that the nicest days are those that make me want to emigrate.