25/03/2011 15:48 GMT | Updated 22/05/2015 10:12 BST

Food &Amp; The City: On Spring's Snipers

Spring has sprung, and it has been wonderful to walk through the city this week and literally taste the difference a little sunshine makes to a broken world. I for one have felt super-happy for no particular reason other than that the sun is shining and the sky is blue.

But unsolicited happiness is an endangered species, and as I bounce around town all bright eyed and bushy tailed, I have become increasingly aware of snipers. Snipers are those who chose to shoot down your moment and sabotage your happiness with their pessimism or 'friendly advice'. Snipers work undercover and wear camouflage.

If life were a game of paintball, we would be able to see their pessimistic projections literally dripping off our clothes. Where do these people get off telling us that they have consulted the long-term weather forecast and the sunshine is not going to last? Things don't necessarily have to last to be appreciated, and you do not want to toast something as springy as spring with a sniper whose glass is half empty. Snipers represent a clear and present danger to our daily happiness and the message is to avoid them like the plague.

Should you have the misfortune to engage with one, cut the conversation short as soon as they take aim, and run for your life before they fire all THEIR pessimism at YOUR day. Whatever the long-term forecast, Mother Nature has galvanised this Walnut Whip girl into action and as the daffodils and dwarf tulips jazz up the roundabouts, I'm reminded that it is nearly time to show my round bits.

And as things really warmed up I've begun to plan the annual unveiling of my grey flaky parts, and decided that a good spray of mid Med orange would hide a multitude of sins. I have also decided to shed a little hibernation chub and step into a detox for a few weeks. This means cutting out wheat, bovine dairy, alcohol and refined sugar. I can hear the snipers firing off "What about the coffee?!"

Well, in the words of the great Meatloaf (a man whose name juxtaposes detox, like clouds and rain juxtapose the sun): "I'd Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That)".

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