Sis came across a post of The Killers last year, where it showed they were touring for their Wonderful Wonderful album. We had a casual conversation about going to see them,
making it as far as the booking page. Then we thought about logistics, switching work shifts and wondering whether we'd be too far away from the main stage. It all culminated in us deciding 'Ok, maybe not this time.' Then we saw footage of how spectacular the show was. Yes, the auditorium was huge, although the energy
was electric. We questioned whether we made the right choice. Quick search as to their next venue in the UK. Oh, Luxembourg. Right. Maybe they'll tour again next year?
I got a text from @Hinisha_ the next day, 'So, Luxembourg?' There was some similar deliberation, logistics of course factoring in that little bit more. Sometimes - most of the time - overthinking leads to not very much getting done. We switched around work commitments, booked what we needed to and were pretty excited about flying out the following week! We booked our stay at Hotel Grey, which featured many pieces of art draped on the walls. A giant fashion illustration was etched into the glass wall of our room. A fitting welcome.
When we landed at the airport, I glanced down at the mat which said 'Bienvenue'. We were in the right place... a chance to put my French to use! All those hours of GCSE lessons
resurfaced. Since then, (a whole lifetime ago) I'd wanted to speak French fluently, so have watched many a film, read texts and listened to the language unfurl with French-speaking
friends. It was fun engaging in friendly chat with people in the city, especially when buying croissants and orange juice in the morning.
'On the corner of Maine St.. just tryna keep it in line...' I first listened to The Killers when I was at secondary school. My brother gave me a collection of albums he thought I'd appreciate, where Hot Fuss and Sam's Town were two of them. Mr Brightside, of course, from the the first album is one of their most popular hits. One of my faves is actually 'Believe me Natalie', with it's rousing rhythmic beat, which also left you questioning whether 'there is an old cliché under your Monet, baby ?'
Back to our first day in Luxembourg - best believe there's still many a plant to appreciate. We strolled past a flower shop, with bright moon cacti, lavender and sempervivum lining the shelves. I really like this succulent and I recall planting many mini rockeries with sempervive in the post here. Scaling the winding landscape, I spotted an allotment perched atop the mountainous area. Looked like a pretty zen place to spend your mornings, secateurs at hand.
Our journey to the airport involved belting out tunes, including the amazing 'When you Were Young' and 'All These Things That I've Done.' Atmospheric car arena. Here's a mellow version of of the first melody mentioned - perfect chilled listening. The doors for the show opened at 7pm. About 2 hours in, we continued to wait in the sweltering venue. I think everyone was in a state of 'Come onn! We want to see these guitars on stage put to use!' Still, all was calm and it was a great crowd. Before you knew it, the lights descended.
Purple lazer beams fanned out in the darkness and figures made their way on stage. It was finally happening! A silhouette of Brandon Flowers appeared on stage; the spotlight
focusing on him. He pulled back his phantom arrow and the entire stadium erupted with confetti, amidst screams from the ecstatic crowd. Me and sis were absorbed in the moment for sure. I've wondered what kind of experience would warrant keyboard spamming such as this: wijfidhofmiskhmkjbjksfaiahh. I feel like this was it.
We were launched into the upbeat synth of The Man with Brandon taking a moment after to acknowledge how hot the venue was. That it was. Hearing the classics from the first two
albums being played was so surreal. Read my Mind, Reasons Unknown and eventually being catapulted into When You Were Young. One of my absolute favourites. An electric wall of sparks ignited behind the musicians, as the bridge kicked in. Arms flailing in excitement. I remember thinking half way through the concert... 'I can't believe this has to come to an end'.
There's a few albums you look back on which remind you of an era of your life. I remember the first time I listened to Songs in A-minor by Alicia Keys and Stripped by Christina Aguilera. Coming home from school to play songs that stand out on the CD player. There's nothing quite like rediscovering songs that evoke all the memories. So, if you zoom in really hard into the bottom left quadrant of this photo, you will indeed see my bespectacled face smiling away. Ronnie Vannucci Jr. toasting us and the show. What a pleasure it was.
Back to regular plant scheduling - our first day in the city was full of foliage. Is that a hydrangea bush? I've wanted to plant this particular flower in my garden for quite a while. They have lovely, full floral orbs. A visit to the garden centre saw me find a blue shade Hydrangea I'd been searching for. I'm hoping the roots will take hold and stunning blooms will be out in force by next year. Throwing it back to the present - the evening of this day was an evening like no other. I mean, a concert that rocked your socks right off.
I remember stepping out briefly in December, just to see how it's all doing. As expected, bare branches, grey undertones and dormant bulbs. Winter isn't the most joyous time to don the gloves. I prefer to leave it for late Feb/March. I'd like to think the the worst of the cold has been and gone. Thus leaving time for straight-up blooming. Or so I'd like to believe. We all remember the 'Beast from the East' last March... brrr,
The difficulty in gardening remains in keeping the plants wholly intact. Slugs and snails who can't resist the delicious lure of foliage. I can't blame them - it's just that I would once love to pluck a juicy strawberry and not find a network of tunnels burrowed inside. A few summers ago, I tried a homemade rosemary oil and water concoction spray. I've read neem oil works a treat...maybe it'll do the trick? I'm trying to find a way to purely deter them, in an environment and bug-friendly way. Any gardening tips? Would be great to hear them.
I'm happy to trade in my paintbrush for a trowel when I can and replace paint with compost under the finger nails (although to be honest, I'd prefer to keep the fingernails clean). You have to get your hands dirty sometimes to get things done. It's all about embracing everything that comes with it -want beautiful blooms...be happy in the soil. Sometimes I like to combine the two, as I did on this day. It was a cool spring day and the canvas, paints and plants came out to play. The joy I find, is switching between it all.
Two summers ago, I taught fashion illustration at a summer school in Cheltenham. In my spare time, I had the chance to walk around and explore the city. I remember spotting a wall-
mounted face with blossoming crown (and slightly alarmed faux pigeon) to foliage pouring from pots. Gardening feats to be found everywhere. Textures and patterns were evident
in many a trail. These repetitive forms reminded me of the winning moment in 90's Microsoft Solitaire, with all the cards dance in-canon along the screen, Does it ring a bell?
How fragrant is sweet pea? I remember the first time I planted them and catching the scent in the air. Silk purse-like petals in shades ranging from white to maroon. The bright
orange/pink variety was a delight, where I think back to the one I had to celebrate my 27th birthday. It's a shame that they are annuals and the delicate trail only blooms for one year.
That said, if you collect the seeds in the pods and keep them, they're good to go for the following year. Colours of the crocosmia buds below look like little pearls of fire.
For as long as I can remember, the back of the garden has been lined with trees and spindly blackberry branches. I remember coming home to find the dense greenery being cleared. Technically, the green growth which draped over wasn't part of our property and the owner of the building behind had decided it was time to clear the area. The week which followed was like a scene from FernGully - roots hoisted out and sticky tar steamrolling over trunk stubs. The Evergreen - gone. Blackberry brambles, no more. For some time after, it looked bare when stepping out into the garden.
Peering over the wall a few weeks later, it was nice seeing nature reclaim what once was, with a thick blackberry stalk shooting through the edge of the tar. Life prevails.
We're considering a trellis along the back and growing rambling roses through it. That or multiple pots, filled with various flora. I love to find all types of nature residing in the
garden, from butterflies to beetles. I saw an angular beetle resting on the foxglove once; it's like a prehistoric bug from the past.
Using fresh coffee grounds on the earthis a measure I have heard of, which apparently keeps leaf-nibblers at bay. It has been used as a fertiliser, as it adds nutrient-rich organic matter to the soil. Costa Coffee have an excellent initiative called Grounds for Grounds, where they can prepare a bag of grounds for you to take home, to use on your flowerbeds. I tried this method for a while, where I did notice the berries and leaves were left, for the most part, complete. Not to mention - forget brewing coffee, you could wake up and smell the garden,
There's a definite happy moment, when you see what you've planted bear fruit. Fruits of your labour indeed. Yet, it doesn't feel laborious to me, even when I'm in spade wielding mode,digging away. When you lose track of time, you know you're onto a good thing, It's the kind of tired you'd welcome from spending the day doing what you love, Don't think I had bought my gardening clogs at this point, as who knows, they might have made an outing on this occasion. I'm heading back home for the Easter holiday...guess where I'll be.
July this year saw us take an amazing family trip to celebrate my dad's 60th birthday. We all wanted to be by the beach - the sun. sand and a subtle tan. Our morning flight meant a
not-so-bright wake up at 3am and flight at 6 in the morning. An hour on the plane and a hat-draped snooze later, we arrived in sunny Portugal. First on the agenda was a hearty
breakfast, followed by a dip in the sea and a sand manicure. Ah, the beach. A knee-deep lounge in the water, sitting in the doughnut float. The simple and calming joys of a sea soak.
We stayed at the Jupiter Algarve, which had comfortable rooms and friendly staff. I would recommend it for sure, especially as it was a stone's throw from the beach. The view from our room balcony overlooked the twinkling sea and the majestic building above, where every morning felt that extra bit zen. You can see it all unfold on sis's video here. We were based in Portimão, which had a family-friendly feel and pleasant buzz about the place. The sunshine and sand always helps. On our second day, we decided to venture into Lagos.
A colourful carousel in town added to the backdrop of pastel buildings. Shop fronts in the lanes featured an array of souvenirs, from shell-adorned boxes to rows of magnets. As well as cork art. More on that in a mo. A gallery window exhibited rock-inspired art, with vibrant hues smeared skillfully on a canvas. Which reminds me, I have to experiment more with
impasto paint in the coming year. I've dabbled slightly, yet haven't got around to creating an entire piece with the medium. It tends to get a bit messy, particularly having to clean the
brushes with turpentine. The end result is worth it though. The art has a tactile, raised surface, which adds to the impact.
A local artist beautifully captured the rocky vista, at what appears to be golden hour. I love the use of such vivid colours to capture the striking subject on canvas. I knew I couldn't be
the only person in awe of the landscape. I took many a picture of the stony cliffs, which I'll be sharing in the coming Portu posts. A well-layered stippled palette - a good sign the paint
and ideas have been flowing, This year, I experimented more with shapes and contrasting colours. The Abstraction series features clashing and complementary patterns.
'Hey, shall we hit up the cork factory?' Anyone? Cork was a big thing in Portugal. Tourist spots and vendors sold cork bags, sandals, purses and art-adorned slabs. There was a small
purse with colourful flecks in the cork; I remember thinking, if they had made that in a larger size, possibly circular and satchel style, I would have snapped it up. Well, should you find yourself in Portugal with time on your hands, you know where to go. Cork as a canvas. I do like an unconventional canvas. Not just good for preserving your favourite tipple, ya know.
Detailed tiles lined many a wall. I thought it'd be fun to try my hand at different crafts, so earlier this year I bought some mini tiles and and a pair of tile-cutters, to create mosaics on
paper. Grouting and walls we'll save for another day. Speaking of tile work, I came across the craft of Caroline Jariwala of Mango Mosaics, when I was watching Kirstie's Handmade
Christmas. Pieces spring to life in vibrant florals and lunar panels, where crockery is also creatively re-purposed in her designs. Many a different element forming the final picture.
Once we arrived in Lagos, we stopped in the main city for lunch and then set on our way to the crazy golf venue. Walking though the rustic town, colourful alleyways and repetitive
arrangements entertained visually. Such vibrancy to the city. This year I also combined abstract motifs with fashion illustrations on paper. Seeing as we're by the coast, here's 'Shoal'. I went back to three of the designs in the series a few months later to add finishing strokes. The maroon segment at one point appeared quite dense, so I later added the shimmering scales coursing through it. Sometimes, having that time in between allows for the reflection needed.
Best believe plant spotting takes place wherever I am. Long lengths of sansevieria cast shadows on the windows, forming the backdrop of sprawling greenery. The patterned lengths
mirrored the marbled surroundings. There's plant inspiration everywhere. I mentioned in this post how plants waken many a vessel - notably a life-size boat filled with them. We
finally arrived at our destination, where I wasn't expecting buoyant ladies pirouetting away. What a sculptural surprise. The putting park was empty when we arrived - time to play!
Funky plant forms were embedded in the surrounding rock beds. Giant acorn-like structures and fronds with perforated edges lined our game. Alike the rockeries built in my own
garden, the different heights and layers gracefully draw the eye throughout. On a much larger scale in this case. I'm considering adding more ferns to my garden...maybe a collection
which have a similar texture to the leaves below? Orby hedges wrapped around the expressive silhouettes and the dancers themselves added a light-heartedness.
We enjoyed making our way around the course, at a relaxed and fun pace. I found there was a shot to make atop a mini hill, which I was able to putt in quite easily. Others were a little trickier to make. The score sheet balanced out again - no embellishing the scores here. It was looking fairly level pegging throughout, A continuing and curving shot was to be taken, where dad smoothly putt the ball in one go. I took a moment for composure on my chance, to find the ball gracefully plipip in too. Yay! Mini celebration all around.
The pink figure must convey how you feel once you've hit a hole-in-one. Speaking of the dancing ladies, a mini placard told us more about them. Their enthusiasm was the brainchild
of artist Karl Heinz Stock, where he wanted to convey the attributes of 'lightness, elegance and grace' through his organic sculptures. Made from polystyrene and a protective layer of
fibreglass, they added a carefree touch throughout the park. Their bold colours stood out against the lush shades of green. Strike a pose.
So, squirty frogs were dotted throughout the course. Boom! A jet beam of water came straight for you when you least expected it. They must've been sensor activated. After one encounter, hopping over rock barriers to make a water-free journey was the drier option. Sprinting through on a few occasions worked too. Midpoint, the boat-pulley-system seemed the only way for us to make our way to the next shot. We emerged on the other side unscathed and couldn't stop laughing on the way. We later realised there was the option to circumnavigate the route by walking, but where would've been the fun in that? Our last shot saw the balls vanish into the structure and dad did very well to clinch the win in the end.
I thought I'd have to hop a flight to Hawaii to see such hibiscus. The exotics come to mind. We made our way back to the main town, taking the scenic route past the beach. There's
always time to stop and smell the flowers. Some of these fleurs may not be the scent-emitting type, yet still have an allure about them. The dried floral arrangements combined shells with materials such as metal and paper. There's no end to the combination of styling blooms, be it a rose in a frosty cube or a cascading coral-esque collaboration.
Palm trees stood breezily along the path, shooting firecracker-like fronds. If I did plant all the fascinating tree species that caught my eye, I don't think there'd be any walking space in the garden. The fiery yellow one spotted at Coton Manor would also make an appearance. The texture of this palm's layered bark resembled stacked shells. It looked as if it you could play a melodious scale, running a xylophone stick across the surface. This tactility is something I want to add in the new shrubs I plant for summer.
We came to the end of the road, to a vista of sails. All things water were happening on the coastal edge: canoe lessons, fishing, boating and happiness from taking a dip. Eye-
catching lighthouses stood strong and striped, irrespective of the weather having had an influence on them. Nothing quite like horizon gazing into the distance, which was the case
with our day in Rutland Water too. Talk about tranquil. Glancing down, mosaic cobbling nodded to the nautical feel surrounding us.
A giant anchor sat ashore, where I'm assuming Poseidon lobbed it far from his underwater haven to land here. It did have a trident quality about it. There's a whole new realm of a world in the watery depths and you never know what lays just beneath the surface. Elements can also have a stunning impact at a visible level, such as Colombia's rainbow river. The macarenia clavigera plant is responsible for the hues, with lime green and fuchsia appearing in ever-changing patches. This would be other-worldly to see in person.
As we strolled along, I said 'wait a moment, I'm just going to take a clear shot of the allium.' Sis, of course, felt Homer-Simpsoning into the shot was necessary. Here's the beautiful
result. Stepping in and out of the photo as I tried to capture the flowers. Straight out of the shot as soon as it was taken. I do like this photo, where I made her a 2018 Christmas card with
a photo compilation featuring this one, of course. Can't wait for Spring to make an appearance again, to see an abundance of petals...and maybe another little photo appearance.
Rich orange gladioli danced with the tall palms, where you can never go wrong with blooms in this tone. We continued exploring the town, to come across a lively music and beer
festival. A few dessert stands joined the line-up too. It was time for a strawberry and Nutella crepe and some live music. I wouldn't say no at any point in my life to either. You can see
the tribute to Elvis and our sweet treat endeavour at the 7 mins 48 mark on sis's vlog. We then ventured back to Portimão for dinner and the hotel for a game of pool with dad.
It's not very often I can step out of the door to find myself at the beach, so I wanted to make the most of it I was accompanied by a hazy lilac sky and delicate swishing heather. The sand resembled multiple mini dunes, ready to mould beneath footprints. It was great being able to see the mood the beach takes on at different points of the day. We walked past the beach late another night, where the glowing full moon rippled on the dark waters. I was reminded of the time I spent in Eastbourne and how relaxing the dusky seascape can be.
Running my hands through the grains, shell shards become unearthed. Iridescent pieces caught the last glimmer of daylight, with creamy brown and white bands decorating the sand. I brought some of the shells home with me, so I could create a sea-inspired terrarium. Pearly stones combined with spiky air plants to best encapsulate the scene. Quiet
moments on the beach were serene. Raindrops gently began to make their way down, just as sis joined me. We took in the view, before the heavens opened up something good.
The quote 'we write to live life twice' by Anaïs Nin comes to mind when I look back at the pages of my blog. It captures why I write and why I also have a love for photography. I
remember purchasing my first Canon camera at 13. The excitement of having those images developed - opening up that envelope and seeing a more tangible form of a moment clicked ages ago. I recall many a photo of lilies. Some photos were great, some not so much ('How did this blur occur?') I feel the former when I see these snaps of my 27th birthday.
After choosing to throw caution to the slight rain splutters, we made a visit to Coton Manor in Northampton. Visiting gardens is one of our favourite ways to spend summertime. We've
luckily had a chance to visit a fair few in the past years and I have to say, this is one of my absolute favourites. The rockery at Lamport Hall was memorable for sure, as well as pensive
pond moments at Cottesbrooke Hall. Here, it was the beautiful mix of flora and fauna, if not for a particular long-limbed creature I anticipated seeing.
I could wax lyrical about all the blooms here for a while...so I'm going to. Flowerbeds edged along the length, with hazy purple irises sitting comfortably. Fluid lines of the flowerheads
reminded me of Van Gogh's brushstrokes. There was a fragrant burst which past us every time we were in a certain vicinity. Stepping back and forth to catch the aroma again, we were
able to narrow in on which shrub it was. Each variety was labelled, where it turned out to be the 'syringa palibin' - aka lilacs. Cue searching for said shrub in online garden shops, That, and about 20 other plant species (slight exaggeration...only slight).
We sat on the lawn by the khaki-coloured lake, absorbing our zen surroundings. It was looking a little touch and go with the weather, although the sun emerged at just the right time.
Those jungle vibes came through with giant palms arching extravagantly out of the water. At times like this, I have thoughts of creating a water feature in my own garden. A
small scale version is also an option, like this microcosm you could hold in your hands. The most striking ducks with Mondrian-esque markings drifted through the chocolate waters.
The variety of flora continues. Creamy pansies smile in clusters and paper-like petals thread daisies together. Wonderland, here we are. Blue poppies were surprising and surreal. An immediate thought was of course, planting some. Monty Don on Gardener's World revealed that the Himalayan Poppy can be fussy with the soil and conditions they are in. Not one to be deterred, I may find them in a flower patch close to me soon. Yes, my Friday evenings are usually spent watching what green feats are blossoming in many a different garden.
Past the archway and fountain, we ventured into one of the most beautiful gardens. A layered landscape with pockets of colour and shrubbery. Glancing around, it was a case of
wanting to visually take in everything, from every angle. Speckles of white and fuchsia stood out against the verdant backdrop. Fiery yellow blooms sparked alight from one corner,
adding to the mottled drama. A perfectly paved path winded into the distance, marked by giant conifers. This was one garden I didn't want to leave.
Fern fronds sprawled onto the path, sprouting in hearty bunches. There's something prehistoric and enchanting about ferns. I purchased a beautiful one from Kelmarsh Hall two summers ago, which provides great texture amongst other foliage. Another leafy plant which I've embedded in the soil is the Hosta. They show good promise of growing, yet their leaves prove a bit too delicious for nearby critters. How to keep them at bay? I'm on the search for environmentally and bug-friendly repellents. Any suggestions are welcome.
This wonderfully dreamlike scenario. Carefree flamingos were happy to strike a long-stemmed pose. Even as you came in a little closer, they were completely cool. They have nonchalant steps and a relaxed demeanour - almost as if they're saying 'Here, feel free to capture this angle.' When they came together to make a neck-curving heart...a definite new love for the flams. Some were in the pool having a dip. where these two gems opted to have a little standing siesta. Talk about a haven for beautiful birds.
Wisteria draped along a wall length of the manor. I bought a wisteria plant around 2 years ago, which sits small and proud in a green pot. It's yet to show any signs of being such an
expansive, all-encompassing formation. Deep soil, many a year and patience should do the trick. From the garden shop here, I chose a climbing sweet-pea as my birthday plant, which
happened to be a vibrant pink/orange shade (matched the flamingos). It was also coincidentally named the 'Happy Birthday' variety on the tag. Couldn't have been more fitting.
Taking life with a plate full of petals and a small side of thorns. Because, well, that's just the balance that it is. Make sure you've got your gardening gloves on though. Those thorns can
have some cutting power. Still, you have to stop and smell the roses once in a while. I've planted two rose bushes in my garden. I know summertime has come around when
velvet red roses have unfurled and they're surrounded by bees. I find there's always an abundance of flora to get lost in.
It was a tranquil Friday, near the end of May when we decided to visit Rutland Water. A few days before my birthday, in fact. There's many a biking trail and a tranquil expanse of water. I did enjoy growing up in Leicester, especially bike rides in the local park - steep hills which allowed for soaring on the descent. It was lovely to spend this day near the dock of the bay, with pebbles underfoot and reflective waters catching the sun.
I remember the first time I made a visit here was in Year 4 (approx. aged 8) with school, at a different part of this large location. It was informative learning about the water cycle. That
day many a year ago, was broken up into two parts, where we spent the morning at Cropston Reservoir. We were told prior to the trip that a pair of wellies would be handy, as we
planned to walk through muddy river banks. I remember shopping with mum for the perfect pair. She asked if I was certain about the pair I wanted and I thought I was. They were a tad snug, but they would be more comfortable with a little wear, right?
The end of the walk was a note-to-self moment. As nice as the light pink Wellington boots look, if they're a size too small, opt for the comfortable, robust green ones which you could easily spend a day fly-fishing in. A fun day regardless, where the following days at school involved pretending to write from the perspective of a living water droplet, going through its daily life cycle. We've all been there. I remember writing a lengthy piece, which needed to be folded on itself multiple times before it was displayed on the wall. I've kept some work from my childhood days and I still have this piece written approx 21 years ago. Well worth the read.
Practicality over appearance, the vast amount of time these days. My Croc-like gardening clogs would be evidence of this. Never did I think I'd be sporting a pair, yet I've grown quite
accustomed to them. Whether they'll be making a public appearance any time soon remains to be seen. I step out into the garden to put them on and think 'Ah, I'm home.' They
remind me of carefree weed-pulling-makes-everything-come-up-roses times. Mine don't have the mini holes dotted across the plastic barrier of the shoe. They do however,
have the tooth-like shape, resilience and sure do the trick when wading through rocky mud. Convinced yet? Go on, wedge up and get a little muddy.
Next rockery venture: a giant succulent-filled boat. Speaking of one, I did come across an ornamental boat (about 2 feet long) in a shop a few months ago and I was very tempted to
buy it. Navy blue with white edging, it was as nautical as it gets. I envisioned filling it with some compost and echeveria lilacina, with its greyish/blue tint petals mimicking the sea. It
took a lot to put it back down and remember windowsill space is at a shortage - as mentioned in the last post. I also considered how at this rate, I'm one step short of filling an
abandoned toaster with sprawling succulents - gaze here for vessel-planting inspiration.
I found myself playing camouflage against the stunning structure of Normanton Church. It sits on an arm stretching out into the water and provides a focal point along the landscape.
To think there were plans in the 1970's to flood the surrounding land and building - I'm glad to see it still standing strong today. Speaking of striking construction, the artist Pontus
Jansson carefully staggers rocks and then let's gravity naturally do it's thing (a helping hand sometimes). The balance between the various sized stones is impressive, with serene
locations adding to the zen. Each piece complements the next, leaving your mind to sometimes interpret the sculptural forms - I get 'book perched atop a mini meteor' here.
Gazing into the distance, you wonder what lies beneath the calm surface of the water. Wasn't expecting Nessie, although I'm sure fascinating creatures on a smaller scale are out there
doing their thing. I've always wanted to see coral; there's an abundance of colour, patterns and surrealness underwater. Being surrounded by it all would be quite an experience.
Last year I worked at a summer school, where I visited a dock in Gloucester on a free day. Quaint barges invited you over for tea. Life on the water just seems that bit more chill.
While writing this post, I found this song automatically play on my playlist. 'No man is an island...maybe you were the ocean when I was just a stone'. Seemed fitting while I look back at
a water-filled day. I'm a big fan of Ben Howard's music - have a listen to his albums for some mellow, yet moving, listening. This feels like a good segue to mention that they played
one of his beaut tunes at the end of a stellar episode of House, that I watched yesterday. I'm on the final series and as I (sadly) edge closer to the last ever episode, I'm over here
wondering how to spend my evenings. I could write or draw, sure, although peak productivity for me tends to be the morning/afternoon and I've carved out the late part of the day for
a show. I'm thinking Grey's Anatomy. I've heard that it's 15 series or so deep, so it's quite the investment. One to make? If you have any recommendations, I'd be happy to hear them.
We decided to see some more of the land, so me and sis unhurriedly climbed up a stony pathway. Parents opted to take shade, read the paper and relax. The shoreline dipped in and out throughout the view, with the majestic building peeking through the trees. Sheep. so many sheep, living off the fat of the land and the good life. I was reminded of my 28th birthday spent in Derbyshire. We finished this lovely day with a visit to a restaurant called Tiranga, for an early birthday dinner. A great place for some authentic Indian food - the chilli paneer has a tasty crispiness to it. Summer, until you're ready to roll around again, we'll be here.