March, I have decided, is the stroppy teenager of the calendar; moody, unpredictable, and incapable of making up its mind. It can’t decide if it is winter or spring. One minute, you’re dusting off the garden furniture, about to sip one of our cold local-brewed lagers (or fabulous white wines); the next, you’re back inside, hugging the radiator like it’s the last lifeboat on the Titanic, muttering about global warming.

The always-reliable weather presenter (who never-ever just guesses) suggested it may be warm enough in April for the year’s first BBQ. Cue hailstones the size of golf balls. And yes, we will persist, standing in the rain, flipping sausages, and saying, “It’s actually quite mild once you get used to it.”

But before we leap into the summer spirit, we’ve got some major milestones ahead: Mother’s Day, Easter –  and - if you have kids - the endless school holidays that feel more like seven weeks than two. For those without children, it’s a smug four-day weekender of uninterrupted lie-ins, and lots of sport to watch too.

Mother’s Day: “Saying Thank You!”

Mother’s Day is a wonderful time to show appreciation for the woman who against all odds, ensured your survival, and who (had she of known) would have stopped you from:

(a)  doing dangerous things (playing with the bonfire - Guy Fawkes 1978 - “Let’s throw the whole box of fireworks on at once!”)

(b) getting ill (playing DARE - Autumn 1979 - “you have to eat the whole spider.”)

(c) endangering your life (shouting abuse at Manchester United fans - cup final day 1983 - “It’s fine, they can’t get to us” (who knew there were bridges on the underground, or just how fast Man Utd supporters are?)

Of course, as adults, we express our gratitude in the most British way possible: by realising at 9 PM on Saturday that we’ve forgotten to buy a card.

And if you’ve left it too late to book the requisite pub lunch, nothing says “I love you” like a box of Milk Tray from One Stop along with a lukewarm cup of tea.

But if you want do better than that! You can still make up a hamper at Phils Good Food: pop in on Saturday - I’ll even help you put together a hamper that won’t make her regret keeping you alive.

Of course, beyond the chaos of March, there is hope on the horizon. Longer days, beer gardens, and that one week in June when we all suddenly remember that we own shorts.

April on, and it’s time to awkwardly attempt small talk at the hairdressers/barbers about our plans for the summer:

                •             The Plan =We’re off to Cornwall. It’ll be glorious. Far easier than going abroad.

                •             The Reality =sixty-two hours on the A303, fog on arrival, rain all week.

                •             The Discussion =I did say Spain would’ve been cheaper!

And before you know it, we’ll all be standing in Elms Field, pint of Elusive’s latest brew in hand, waiting for the bands at Party in the Park, watching a man called Melfyn dropping his juggling balls.

That, my friends, is Wokingham life.

The Real Test of Any Relationship

At home we are currently knee-deep in cardboard boxes, each contains either something vitally important (passport, kettle, will to live) or something utterly useless (a single motorbike glove – now reunited with its pair but lacking a motorbike, or a replacement filter for the fish tank I sold 15 years ago – same year I sold the motorbike I think).

Why? Because we are moving house.

They say moving house is one of life’s most stressful events. I have deduced this is solely because it involves assembling IKEA furniture with your other half. Actual quote from last night: “It’s NOT a missing screw! That’s not a shelf it’s a side!”

Anyway, we’re only moving a couple of miles away, so it should all be a doddle.

Is that a fanfare I hear?  ... It’s Time for Another Instalment of “Why Shopping Locally is Not Just a Good Thing, but a Necessary Thing”

Yes, I’m still on this mission. And today, we arrive at:

Reason Number 9: Humanity in our community.

Wokingham (well, each town and village across the country) has witnessed great acts of humanity and charity from within its community, especially since 2020, and we have seen incredible acts of kindness. Food banks, local businesses donating supplies, neighbours and strangers stepping up for one another. That’s what a community is. And local shops? They’re the glue that holds it all together.

If they disappear, so does that spirit. And suddenly, life is a bit more soulless, a bit more… well, you get the point.

So, unless you fancy living in a town where the only high street experience involves collecting missed deliveries from a parcel locker, you need to support your local traders.

And Finally…

Given that we’re moving, I should probably be packing, but I have a shop to run (while Julia is running back-and-forth in a great big van). And what do you pack? How long do you spend deciding whether to keep that old pub quiz trophy from 2004 (we came third – best ever!) and wondering what to do with the Blue-Ray discs we have; do we even have a Blue-Ray player?

Also, don’t forget the annual ordeal of putting the clocks forward - because I really need to lose of an hour of sleep this weekend that I won’t get back until October.

But onwards we go - March is nearly over, April awaits, and soon we’ll be dodging wasps in beer gardens, lamenting the price of ice creams, moaning about the heat, and wondering why we ever thought summer was a good idea

See you next week for more shop shenanigans!

Take care and Have a great week !
Cheers!
Phil

Phil’s Good Food in Wokingham, 2-4 Broad Street, offers a range of high-quality, ethically sourced products, from local honey to world-class cheeses, indie beers, wines, chocolates and much more. Our beautifully curated hampers make the perfect gift, or you can handpick your favourites, and we’ll create a bespoke hamper just for you!
We don’t deal in mass-produced plastic nonsense!
www.philsgoodfood.co.uk
#shoplocal