It is grey and pathetic outside but there is no denying that spring is in the smoggy London air. I am dying of hay fever and the skies are full of Saharan dust but it is worth it. The merest suggestion of good weather to come does magical things to my mood. I shed a layer of grumpiness with each layer of clothing.
In the spirit of a burgeoning spring that will one day become summer (because summer is unimaginable deep in a drizzling English winter) here are some proto-summer jams. I find it impossible not to dance to these. Project for the summer - learn the Busy Earnin' dance. So good.