London summer lovin'

I've said it more than once, but London really is like a different world in the summer. People are noticeably happier, you can really make the most of all the wonderful parks and markets, and the evenings are long - making it seem as though there are so many more hours in the day.

The summer of 2014 was a stunner. I remember many a weekday evening or weekend day spent enjoying the sun on our roof terrace, normally around the bbq.

Unfortunately in many ways London is not built for warm weather, and neither commuting nor working in AC-free offices was much fun!

Here's a few photos from that time.

London, Little Venice: December 2013

I think many visitors to London the most they see of the city's canals is the customary visit to Camden. However there is a real community of people living in canal boats, and it's quite enchanting to wander around the area nicknamed Little Venice, near Paddington, north London.

In fact, it's a great walk along Regent's Canal, from Little Venice, through Regent's Park, and on through to Camden. From Camden you can also continue on to uber trendy Angel. If you were to walk all of that end to end, it's a pretty decent walk, so you'll need some nice weather! But even a little walk along the canal is a nice escape from the busyness of the city. Along the route, there will be occasions where you have to leave the canal-side to walk on the street.

From my work in Regent's Park, I would go for a morning jog along the towpath, and watching everything change so dramatically with the seasons was stunning.

August 2013: camping in Kent: marshmallows, cornfields, and near-death experiences – part 2

The next day we fuelled up on coffee and baked beans, in preparation for our renewed mission to find a shop. While washing the dishes, the sunshine was suddenly disappeared, and out came an intense downpour of huge hailstones. Poor Paul was caught in this and had to hurriedly rush for shelter, much to our amusement. The weather continued in this unpredictable manner for the rest of the day.

Armed with sunblock and raincoats, off we headed optimistically in search of the next village along. Data on our phones was pretty much non-existent, and the only map we had to work from was severely lacking in detail, so we relied on this and rough directions given to us at the pub. Keen to avoid a repeat of yesterday’s hair-raising walks along busy roads, we were pleased to find several ‘public walkways’ signposted.

These public walkways however were often not particularly helpful however, with no idea of where the walkway led, we often discovered ourselves in the opposite direction to what we intended. We also ended up crunching our way through a farmer’s cornfields, gaining a few cuts and scratches in the process.

What we were promised was a mere half an hour’s stroll from the first village soon turned into a few hours. We were getting increasingly hungry and fed up with our ridiculous situation. Finally we found our way to civilisation and were keen to have a hearty lunch, which ended up being in yet another pub.

We asked the waiter about the village shop, explaining that we needed some groceries. Perhaps by the word ‘groceries’ meant something grander to him as he said that there was only a very small shop and he didn’t think it would have what we needed. He explained that there was a bus which left from just down the road every hour or so and could take us into the metropolis of Tunbridge Wells where we could get everything we needed.

Suitably sated, we rolled our eyes and headed off to wait for the bus. Finally off we rolled. Two minutes later we saw the infamous shop, which looked like it would have had everything we needed to feed ourselves for the next few meals.

Nevertheless, we found ourselves in Tunbridge Wells and walked around a cute little centre before finding the huge Morrisons. We started stocking up, and then realised that we still had to figure out how to make our way back to camp. By this time we had had plenty enough of trekking our way through paddocks, cornfields, over stiles, and turning ourselves around in circles, and so we decided we would taxi back to the campsite. Fearing an outrageous sum, we enquired with a driver as to the estimated fare, and he guessed a mere £10. Not having to worry about lugging our supplies back over countless miles, we added some cold beers into the trolley.

Our chatty taxi driver was amused by our story, and keen to check out what the camping area was like, drove us all the way to our tent. 

The journey was only twenty minutes.

August 2013: Camping in Kent: marshmallows, cornfields, and near-death experiences – part 1

In August four of us ventured out into the lush countryside of Kent for a spot of relaxing camping, but what in actual fact ended up being a comedy of errors. We took a train south to Ashurst, laden with newly purchased tents of varying quality, one pot, a bag of marshmallows, instant coffee and some tins of baked beans.

After finding our bearings, off we plodded in the direction of the campsite, only to realise that the country roads were bordered right to the very edge with thick hedgerows. Meanwhile the roads themselves were full of rather large cars and trucks hurtling past at breakneck speed, and honking their horns at us fools who clearly shouldn’t have been there. A sweaty and stressful trek later, we arrived at the campsite.

To say we were underprepared would be an understatement. We claimed our patch of grass and pitched our tents. It soon transpired that the advertised on-site farm shop which we had been counting on for dinner that night and beyond was only open on Saturdays. It was a Thursday.

We were assured there was a shop in the next village, a short walk away. Using the unreliable maps on our phones, we eventually navigated our way to said village, by way of some slightly quieter roads. Once we arrived however, we were informed the shop was closed.

We were left with no other option than dinner in the pub – about as far from camping as you could get. Asking about the shop for tomorrow’s expedition, we were told that we would need to go to the next village again. We sighed and headed back to camp to comfort ourselves with toasted marshmallows.

A lack of foam mats, mattresses, or any form of cushioning and being unaccustomed to sleeping on the ground meant a long and relatively sleepless night for us city slickers.

Guernsey, May 2013

In May I spent a weekend in Guernsey, visiting a friend from NZ, Melissa.

Guernsey is one of the Channel Islands - along with the more famous Jersey - which lie in the English Channel, although actually closer to France than the UK. It's a British Crown Dependency, although is not technically part of the UK. 

Before arriving, pretty much all I knew about Guernsey I'd gathered from The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, a great novel set during the German occupation of the island in World War II. 

Due mostly to their unique location, the Channel Islands have an interesting history, having been colonised, invaded, or influenced by Roman, Norse, French, German and British peoples over the years. The most visible influences today are the French and British however.

Castle Cornet 

Cute and delicious French restaurant

They have their own pounds, at the equal value of the GBP, and have some great ice cream (much better than neighbouring Jersey's ice cream, naturally). Nowadays it's a tax haven, hence the abundance of funds and companies based there, and need for accountants.

While I was there, we had dreadful weather one day in Guernsey, but the following day we visited the small neighbouring island of Herm and were treated to a stunning day. Herm is car-free, with a population of around 60, and we explored the island on foot, before checking out the island's beer festival that day. A lot of the landscape reminded me of NZ.

Straford-upon-Avon, April 2013: Shakespeare and sprinting

In April, we spent a weekend in charming Stratford-upon-Avon, Shakespeare's birthplace. We wandered around the cute wee city centre with its distinctive architecture, had some fish and chips, and even saw Hamlet at the Royal Shakespeare Company. 

The main reason for our visit however was for me to participate in the Shakespeare half marathon. It was a great race. In comparison to the other half I had done, where around only 20 people took part, and I managed to get lost, this race seemed huge, and very well organised. 

The day of the race, Kylie made the most of the traditional full English breakfast served up at our bed and breakfast, while I managed my specifically requested peanut butter toast.

Kylie waited to cheer me on during our first lap of the village centre, and even managed to snap a pic (already a success compared to the Hutt Valley half). After that we headed out into the countryside, passing through small settlements before arriving back into Stratford itself.

Anxious before the start

Feeling pretty fresh at this stage of the race 

It was a great atmosphere, with lots of supporters, including families and small children cheering everyone on, and a few unusual outfits, either for charity or for what seemed to be no reason at all. I'm not much of a speed freak, but was glad to improve on my previous time by around 15 minutes.

After the race, we enjoyed a well deserved pub lunch before heading back to London.

London Winter, Christmas & New Years 2012/13

Backtracking a bit, as we’re coming into winter this year, I realise we never blogged about last winter, Christmas, and New Years.

I have to say we were a little apprehensive about UK winter. I found however that it wasn’t so much the brutality of the winter, but rather the duration – it just seemed to keep on going! I think we even had snow in May. To be fair though, it was apparently an unusually long winter. Meanwhile, back in NZ, friends and family were basking in the warmest summer in 40 years, and cruelly sending pictures of sunny beaches our way.

That said, it was fun to have actual snow, and a real Christmas-y feel. Erika, Kylie and I went ice skating at Somerset House as well. It was beautiful, with lots of cool lighting, the beautiful old building behind, mulled wine and chocolate brownies to warm us up, and a ginormous Christmas tree. My second ice skating experience ever, and I even managed to stay upright, but only just!

Before Christmas, we got together as a group to have our own Christmas celebration and secret santa exchange.

Unlike most of London, we didn’t leave the city for Christmas or New Years. We spent an incredibly relaxed Christmas with French and Norwegian friends and Emeline and Håvard. We made Norweigan gingerbread biscuits, named ‘Pepperkaker' - they were a little darker than the British-style gingerbread, and had a kind of peppering taste - which we then iced - which then iced; we went for a walk around the neighbourhood; and we ate copious amounts of delicious food. 

For New Years, we got together as a group and went to a local bar, where we had quite a bit of wine and danced into the wee hours.

In January, we were treated to a proper snow. It was great fun to us newbies to start with. We went to the local park, and used some real estate signs lying about as toboggans to slide down the hill, much to the amusement of the families. We made a snowman out the back of our flat, had numerous snowball fights, and went exploring in the local cemetery, which had turned into a veritable winter wonderland. After a while though, I got a little fed up of struggling not to fall over on my way to and from the station, and trying to stay warm in our chilly flat.