Raise your hand if you suffer from serious jet lag.
Right? After a 7 hour red eye flight, spending easily up to minimum one hour navigating Heathrow’s hallways, immigration queues and baggage carrousels to then wheel all your goods to the Heathrow Express, then off at Paddington, then into a cab… frankly I’m exhausted writing about it.
That’s why we stay in a lovely hotel for one night before collapsing at the family pile. Just one night of sleep. Starting at 1:30 in the afternoon, please.
As we do when we get to town, we checked in to the Zetter Townhouse… just in time for their Bastille Day celebrations which, although utterly charming and inviting, we were wary of. If we weren’t so tired I’m sure we’d have joined in the Boules, getting sand in our flip flops and spending too much money on Kronenbourgs, because the weather was glorious. It was what summertime in London should always be: bright blue skies, warm sun, people out on bicycles, pubs overflowing into the streets. Happy, smiling Londoners filled with mirth and ale. What more could you want?
A nap, actually.
Then food. And that’s where I snapped all these lovely photographs you are about to look at.
We jumped on the bus to TCR.
And that’s when we made our way back, not having found the cheap electronics we were looking for. Instead we sought out sustenance.
We found plenty of sustenance at Sicillian Avenue. But it looks like everybody got there first.
Perhaps we should follow these cyclists.
That’s when we found ourselves at Exmouth Market. Although the market itself had already shut for the day, a restaurant/roastery called Caravan. It’s lovely.
It’s windows open up to get an outside indoors feel and on a day like today, the restaurant was ours.
And so are these saddles. But I digress.
We found the Michael Palin Centre on our walk back to the hotel.
And down this little walkway, we found a park I didn’t even know about.
Apparently in this spot of beauty, called Spa Fields, was once a neighborhood of ill manners. “Rude sports” were conducted here like duck-hunting, prize-fighting and bull-baiting.
Now one finds lavender, kids drinking and hanging out and office workers on their luncheons.
Someone once told me that this area is also full of plague pits. Spooky.
One of the cool things for an American who lives in Los Angeles with its wide roads and concrete are Clerkenwell’s alleys and passages of brick and glass. I can’t get enough of them, even when I lived there I’d take a passage if I could.
Whilst fooling around with my black and white setting, we went down a passage and found one of Wren’s churches, St James’ Church. So many green spaces! The Southwood Garden, as it is called, was recently replanted in 2012. I might have a colour photo of it around here somewhere.
The Southwood Garden provides a lovely cut through to Aylesbury Street, its square often filled with afternoon revelers.
But we had only one thing in mind as we went down another popular passage.
Our hotel. Complete with Bastille Day celebrations…