In the 10 years in which I’ve been away from London and in my new home of Wales, I haven’t really missed the hustle and bustle and smell and grime and rudeness of the big city. I love my new home and the big back garden, which would almost classify as a park if it were in London, but more often than not looks like a meadow (too much rain to cut the grass, is the standard excuse around these parts).
However, yesterday Kaff and I stumbled around London – we weren’t drunk, this is her term for just wandering aimlessly around – and sat and had lunch in Green Park with one of her friends. That was quite good fun. How I laughed at the people on their lunchtime workouts – there was one particularly sad group of three, who’d hired a personal trainer between them. He was not worth the money and it didn’t look as if any of them broke a sweat, not even the lardiest of them.
Once we’d dropped Kaff’s mate off back at her office, we walked on past the Canadian High Commission and into Grosvenor Square where we found this lovely park filled with blossom. I snuck out of Kaff’s bag and had a little scamper around while she sat and people-watched for a while.