I think I can probably speak for everyone when I say that this past weekend was the warm embrace that we all so desperately needed. The overcast skies and disappointing temperatures had been going on for so long that my housemates and I had resided in the fact that this was just our life now. So, when the grey cleared and the sun proudly returned to our skies, we couldn’t quite believe it. With the additional news of the ‘roadmap’ (how sick are you of that word?) out of Covid-19, it was like the imminent spring was saying to us ‘did you really think I’d let you down?’. Granted, spring doesn’t officially start until March 20th, but the glimpse we got this weekend was enough to keep us going for now.

On Friday we began the three-day hiatus from our work and impending dissertation deadlines, which we discarded along with the winter coats we had now shoved back into our wardrobes. It seems as though lockdown has really made us appreciate the simplicities of basking in the sunshine, even if all the shops and restaurants around us are closed. We visited the nearby seaside town of Topsham and marvelled at all the people just sitting and watching the world go by, and we were more than happy to join them. For the first time in a few dreary months, our heads were clear and we let ourselves soak in the moment (and the warmth). We wandered around the town for a few hours, appreciating the fact that pretty places like this were on our doorstep. A little hole in the wall sold fresh ginger beer and slices of cake, which I was I was more than happy to indulge in. The only thing I slightly regret was scoffing my cake before we realised we would have to make a run back up the hill for the train. Saturday consisted of a few wine hangovers and an attempt to watch the sunset, before being turned away due to the controlled explosion of a WWII bomb in Exeter (never a dull moment). Nonetheless, on our return, we decided to sit in our garden until the sky turned dark and the chill crept in.

On Sunday, we spent the entire day outside. Of course, this isn’t exactly ground breaking, but there was something so funny about the fact that we really hadn’t planned to do so. The curtains in my uni room are behind my bed, and so every morning I reach back and tug at them to reveal what the weather has in store for me. If it’s grey, I feel no haste to get up, but if it’s blue, I feel guilty for staying in bed a moment longer. On Sunday there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and so I began the first shift of the day before 10am – eating my breakfast outside. It wasn’t long before I was joined by the rest of my housemates and we spent the morning putting the world to rights. Sleepy, but hopeful, we seemed to set the tone for the rest of the day. I escaped inside to shower and dress, with the view of doing a little bit of work, but I stuck my head out of the window and discovered my housemates were unmoved, and so I had no choice but to rejoin them. We continued like this for hours, popping inside for only a moment until the pull from outside overwhelmed us again.

All day long we sat and told stories and laughed and suddenly nothing seemed quite as bleak as it had been. Eating breakfast and lunch outside was far more exciting than eating it in our dingy kitchen, and it tasted all the better for it. It’s funny how quickly time can pass if you’re having a good time, even when you’re having said good time doing absolutely nothing. We all had things to do in preparation for Monday, but they just didn’t seem as important as sitting around our tiny picnic table and enjoying each other’s company. At one point the temperature reached a whole 14 degrees celsius, and we collectively agreed that it was now in fact summer and nothing you could say would deter us from this conclusion. There’s nothing quite so thrilling as being perfectly warm enough in a cami and a cardigan in February. By the afternoon, the beer was out and the conversation was a little more loopy. All around us, in the vast expanse of uni house gardens, came the sound of other students doing the exact same thing as us: making the most of what we’ve got. It’s the same sound you might hear picnicking in a London park or in a busy theatre during the intermission – excitement and anticipation for the good times ahead.

It’s amazing what sunshine and fresh air can do for your mood, and I seem to be surprised by this every time. That evening, I had a few new freckles, rosy cheeks, and a happy, drowsy feeling that promised a good nights sleep. In the morning I felt like I was reset and ready to tackle the last four weeks of term. Alas, in true English fashion, the clouds seem to have returned once again, but this time I know that the sun is waiting patiently behind them.