When a 72-year old bird trapper this week bit a policeman, I was not really taken aback. You see, it's the weather getting to us. We've had such a long spell of cold, dull and rainy winter that I think the lack of sunshine went to our heads and sooner or later we would have all started acting weird.

So March 21 couldn't have come a moment too soon. If we lived some 5,000 years ago, this morning we'd all be nursing a hangover. We would have spent the whole of yesterday at the Mnajdra megalithic temples in Qrendi, at a sunset-to-sunrise Spring Equinox party presented to us by Temple Builders Promotions.

Sure, the overlooking unique coast setting would have been a ticket seller in itself, but we would have given up our Ugg-like rawhide boots to get VIP positions during sunrise and watch the marvel of the sun's rays run parallel to the sides of the entrance and bathing the temple's rear altar in sunlight.

And then we'd have gone home safe in the knowledge that we could have stopped worrying about our leaky huts because the weather forecast was only going to get better.

And that's what we should be doing this morning: opening our verandas with a grin and a 'Hello sunshine! Goodbye winter bahs!'

So does weather really affect our mood? Well, if you ask a child to draw two pictures, one of a rainy day and another of a sunny day, you pretty much know the outcome. In the first, as raindrops fall from the top of the page, the stick figure behind the window is frowning. In the second, a yellow sun beams from the corner and the stick man is smiling, waving his scrawny arms in the air and has colourful flowers at his feet. Even his stick dog wears a grin.

Despite several attempts to make winter sound like fun - see the 1970s song Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head - scientifically it's been proven that spirits tend to go down, the darker and colder the days.

And for us, forever spoilt in the Mediterranean climate, non-stop showers and greyness are bound to take their toll. When I lived in Luxembourg I used to drive myself drowsy dreaming the clouds away - for a good long five grey months of the year.

However, for the English, for example, who live a life of almost constant lack of sunshine, the weather is not a meteorological obsession but, according to anthropologist Kate Fox in her book Watching the English, a pleasant ritual greeting.

That's not to say we are all by now suffering from Seasonal Affective Disorder because of a particularly sombre winter. And that's also not to say that the weather made the um, elderly biter, lose control of his, um, jaws (did he have dentures, I wonder?) But some people's emotions do tend to be more vulnerable to weather changes.

So thankfully it's over now and we can all get out of our caves. It's that time of the year again to switch off the DVD, to leave the PCs, Playstations and the indoor games behind and get out there in the sun.

It's time to put on that sunscreen. To unfurl and hook the hammock and lie swinging in the spring breeze. To read books on the beach, and feel the sand in our hair and our toes. To go for a long walk to Mnajdra and meditate the feats of our ancestors. To turn the jazz and reggae music on. It's time to start recharging our batteries.

Above all it's time to sing at the top of our lungs that Aquarius song: "Let the sun shine/Let the sun shine in/The sun shine in..."