Back behind the screen after two days away in the company of some of the Greats (with a capital “G”) of nature conservation in Italy. Just a few metres above me is a stubborn layer of dripping cloud and some of it has seeped into my head. Spring drizzle, warm and dark. It is from this that light will come, light and the growing of green things and flowers. And me? What about me? I have an urgent need to dance rock and roll barefoot to the canned music in a supermarket aisle between the frozen ready meals and canned peaches. I’m off now to have a word with the sodden stratus to see if together we can’t whip up a cumulonimbus worthy of the name.