A few weeks ago now we ducked over to London to catch up with the other expat branch of Ant’s family on what was the last of a very protracted run of long weekends.
The trip peaked on arrival, with Sophie’s home cooked beef short rib kalbi (galbi? Ugh, Korea and Denmark can totally get together and discuss how much fun it is to write one letter and say another). It was basically all downhill after that.
I jest. It peaked again when Poland revealed itself as the people’s champion of Eurovision. Haters (the juries) gonna hate, but the people of Europe can’t be denied.
Anyway, after some very hectic touristing in the previous weeks, it was nice to have a slightly more relaxed weekend away. It was particularly good to have a reason to explore a part of London I haven’t previously spent much time in – up north around Primrose Hill and Hampstead Heath.
London has a thriving ‘borrow my dog’ scheme, so much to Ant’s joy we took possession of little Suki one day. Our walk mainly involved laughing at her as she tried her hardest to hunt squirrels. It’ll never happen, Suki, just give up.
We ended up at Kenwood House, seemingly at a primo time of year for the garden.
It was also nice being back in the land of real ale and real pubs. I totally recommend Cask in Pimlico, if only because the band on a Sunday afternoon almost outnumbered the patrons.
Our other touristic activities only extended to multiple attempts at making it to the end of the Tate Britain ‘Journey through British Art’. We only got to 1940 before time got the better of us, so we’ve been living with a nagging feeling of incompleteness ever since.
That’s about all from what I assume is the first of many London trips – there are so many people we need to catch up with. I’ll sign off with this month’s installment of marble mammaries: bison edition: