Defrost

Two lugubrious goldfish are butting heads at the edge of Edmund's pond; that alabaster fountain cherub urinating over a long-suffering lily pad; this crooked, crazy-eyed garden gnome with his baitless, impotent fishing pole; some Japonaise stone turtle thing, slightly chipped at the rear; the spectre of winter is skating across the water on a wind ripple and returning to his tomb. Spring, meanwhile, is still hiding behind that muddy bag of potting soil, but slowly changing into its Liberty of London bikini. Perhaps it will go for a swim this weekend?