April might well be the cruellest month, but May really is a gas.

It marks the time when good things return to Hadleigh. And there's been plenty of dopamine rushes I'd opine among the town's residents as, one-by-one, many of the things we've missed most have come back to Mamma.

First and foremost, of course, there's the May Show, all bright and brilliant after three years of plague and pestilence and pestilential politics.

As I floated around Holbecks Park I was so giddy with joy that I'd have embraced every bull, sheep, hound, leather-clad motorcycle person and indeed every bowler hatted steward, if only I wasn't an incorporeal being who can't do any such thing.

Even 'bumping' (more like 'merging') into fellow shade, old grumpy guts himself, 'Big G' Guthrum was a pleasure, if only to tease him about being a plonker without a plinth.

The weather was cooperative, the blaring music constant and even Police supremo, PC Passmore attended to deter pickpockets and other ne'r-do-wells and personally round up lost children and errant, drunken husbands. All in a day's work, uh, Constable Commissioner?

It was good to see you all. Pity that more of you hadn't cleared your hangovers to rock up to church the next day, though…………

Another returnee is probably the only thing that soars higher than the prices being charged at the May Show: the beloved swifts.

Shrieking and whooping and excreting everywhere, the swifts are like an airborne version of Hadleigh Town Council. But far, far more precious and even more endangered.

Hats off (but then quickly back on to avoid being a pooping practice target) to those who have put up swift boxes or otherwise encouraged these intrepid travellers in their month of need. Let's hope that dozens, if not hundreds, of new broods are heard and seen over the months ahead.

Then there's the cricket. No, not the teeny-tiny wannabe grasshopper-type thingy, but the finest sport by which a ghost can be lulled to sleep.

You see, in my day ministering to the town's souls, the game was played but it was a bit different, for which read violent. The local lads used sticks for bats and a lump of wood or a stone for the ball.

You can imagine the result. At least the gravedigger was happy. Actually, it's been all a go-go at the town's exquisite ground and from what I've seen the various Hadleigh teams are playing with real brio.

The Men's First XI has had a particularly strong start in the Two Counties Championship. There was a certain amount of social media knicker-wetting regarding a banana-shaped delivery from a Mildenhall seamer which clean bowled Hadleigh's number three batman, Kudzai Maunze.

Amidst all the surprise and glee, the fact that the Hadders team romped home to victory was somehow overlooked.

Of course, this May has also seen the return of some less than welcome phenomena. After losing her crown on Babergh's cabinet, Queenie Dawson's period of quiet reflection in a nunnery was merely an arrow slit in length. Her latest report to the Town Council, hastily taken down by embarrassed officials, was a case study in defamation as she made some oh-so serious allegations about Father Derek, our Revd Editor.

More on this in my next spectral emanation – but something tells me that Queenie might need to be spending less time with her 38 Facebook friends and more with her lawyers.

Bring it on, June, bring it on!

• Cricket star wins top community award

Add your letter, column, article, newsletter to Hadleigh Nub News by using the black Nub It button on the home page.