Changing of the clocks brings renewed hope

Changing the clocks marks the change of the seasons, and it certainly marks a change of mood. That itself is seasonal. 

When the clocks change for the winter, everyone is up in arms. You will hear one voice after another arguing against the time changing, saying that we should try and encourage others not to do it, or that we should ‘explore’ not doing it – whatever that involves. The radio and social media are always full of people in a huff about it.

It is not surprising that that should be the feeling as the days grow darker. It is a milder version of what Dylan Thomas described, a rage against the dying of the light. Not even the extra hour in bed blunts the edge of it.

The fuss about it every year is also, of course, a debate and argument that is put on for show. At the end of the - light-saving - day, if the United Kingdom doesn’t change the way they regulate their time, neither will we. You can’t have a different time zone in Derry and Donegal. You can’t drive over the border and have to change your watch. That is simply pragmatic on a divided island.

And if we ever do unite Ireland, it wouldn’t be exactly smart to tell our new unionist fellow citizens that the first thing we are doing is putting them out of sync with their brethren across the water in time as well as sovereignty. Nor would it be too popular for those who like their Corrie or the ‘Super Sunday Soccer only on Sky’ at the traditional time.

But of course, at this time of year, there is less debate when the clocks change. The prospect and reality of longer evenings pushes aside objections. Even the loss of an hour in bed cannot reignite any tinder of grievance. The evening light is back, and in this respect, it throws off shadow. It is really only at this time of year that you can appreciate what all the hullabaloo at Newgrange back on the 21st December is about. That moment when the light fills the chamber: the light is returning, and hope and expectation are rising.

Even with our recent fairly pleasant spell of weather, it is only after the clock changes that we start to feel the full impact of the longer days. And so this is also the time of year when we retire the expression that there is a grand stretch in the evenings. It is no longer a stretch. The evenings are bright, full stop. From here until the 21st June, the bright evenings will unfurl until almost 11pm.

It is at this time of year that our exiles really feel the absence from home. Whether they be in New York, London, Dublin or some other metropolis they will be remembering the long evenings in the west. As a boy, I can remember them in all the vivid colours of the sky they lit until late. The days we remember from our youth are those with the longest evenings, back when your eyes didn’t need street lights to see as the natural light of a long evening began to fade. We all remember those days - and summer nights - when it never really became fully dark.

The city is, of course, better designed for winter living. With all the street lights and evening activities, its advantages are more apparent in the dark and cold season.

But when the evenings lengthen and the temperatures rise, the big buildings and the mass of concrete start to lose their shine, and you really feel their oppressive dead weight. On a sunny summer day, all you want to do is get out of the city. If you take the DART in Dublin on a warm sunny evening, all along the route you will see people clinging to the water’s edge from Howth to Bray. ‘Take me away from the city’ is how Bagatelle started their song about summer in Dublin.

It is then that the countryside - alive with flowers and life - comes into its own. There is an extra kick to that feeling, for, owing to geography, it is also brighter for longer in the evenings in the west. With the absence of some of the worst types of light pollution, you can really appreciate the full glory of the summer twilight. The city sits under its artificially lit aura, blocking out the sky, pretty much all year.

And so ahead of us now we have the prospect of what we hope will be a golden summer. With so much bad news going on in the world, that is a relief. And where better than the west of Ireland to enjoy it?

All around the region, the shutters are coming down. The time is coming for evening football matches, for the long walk after work, for the cutting of lawns and for gardening. Our islands will be opening up, getting ready to welcome visitors, noticing the uptick in the numbers on the boat. The tourist industry across the region will be cleaning and polishing, getting ready to welcome the world.

Now is therefore a good time to start making your own plans for that summer. What is on your list?

Is it to tackle the garden? To make this the year you finally take up sea swimming? Is this the time to get back into that walking or even to start hiking? Maybe you plan to visit a series of towns around the region, going to see one attraction or point of interest in that town and enjoying the best coffee and cake they each have to offer? Perhaps your plan is to go to GAA matches in some different counties as well as your own? Mine this year is to attend the Munster Hurling Final and the Ulster Football Final, so long, of course, as they do not clash with priority local matters.

Some will I know be getting out the campervan and checking it is all ready for the series of trips planned for the season. Your eye might be on the list of music festivals and where the summer nights of dancing will be because, as the Sawdoctors will confirm, you never lost it, that’s for sure.

The longer evenings will also mean that some of the winter rituals will soon be taking their break. That might be a local card game or some other fine device to while the night away. They will be packed away safely until darker nights return. But remember, everybody, it’s April. It’s time to get out the sunscreen again, but n’er cast a clout until the May is out.