Slowly into the New Year

2020 has arrived, and with it a little sunshine at last.

Yesterday's lunch spot.

I've been quiet for a while. Not because I've had nothing to write about, but partly because of a lack of energy and inspiration, and partly because of a lack of time (a bit of a chicken and the egg scenario, if I'm honest).

On reflection, 2019 was a strange year because it was the first in a while where nothing momentous happened. I'm settled in my job. I'm settled in my home. I'm settled in my relationship. I'm settled. And with being settled comes a stupid sense of having not achieved anything; which is ridiculous. It took almost reaching the end of the year to realise a few things. One of these things was as above; relatively speaking, 2019 was a quiet year. Which is fine. Only it wasn't entirely fine, because another thing I realised is that what happened was that I crammed my time full of social events and occasions to make myself feel like I was doing something worthwhile. Which is fine. Only it's not totally fine when you feel completely and utterly shattered by the time December comes around.

So in December, I started to slow down. And while that may sound like leaving it too late, I'm going with the notion that this slowing down is how I'm moving into a New Year. So it's not too late; I just started my resolution a month early.

Is there anything better than sitting on a bench, 

knowing you're in no rush?

As always, I've already plotted a few social events and occasions into my diary and onto the calendar so poor Steven doesn't get left behind (it's no wonder he can't keep up..), but I'm plotting them with care. I'm taking each month into consideration as a whole, not living week by week. If one major event that involves travel or people coming to stay is happening in a month, then that's it. Unless there are extenuating circumstances, then I embrace a slower pace.

There were many elements that I loved about 2019, not least the places that I got to see and the people I got to see them with. With a few empty days between New Year and the start of a new term, I've enjoyed slow wanderings closer to home. Yesterday it was a new stretch of the Thames Path from Kingston to Richmond with the sun on my back, and today it was to and from Wimbledon with the sun in my eyes (all in the name of Vitamin D).

Got to love a line of Cormorants.

Was I wearing sensible footwear? Me? Never.

Relief for my tired tootsies when familiarity was in sight!

Tomorrow looks equally as quiet as the past few days. Perhaps we'll make time for a dog walk before the return to reality on Monday. Slowly, I'm ready to make my way into another New Year.

The Secret Garden

I'm torn whether to actually write about yesterday's venture or not. A huge part of the beauty and charm of the place lay in our sharing it only with a dog walker, the occasional jogger, photographers and an elderly couple having a romantic picnic complete with wine (they had the right idea).

In a small space, this may still seem a fair few people but in a vast expanse of architectural and horticultural magnificence, it really meant we were quite alone to the point where I wondered whether, had it only been me, I might have felt a little spooked. On a gloomy day such as it was, greyer corners of the structure were definitely reminiscent of a scene or detail from an opulent murder mystery.

I fear that were too many people aware of this 'secret garden's' existence than the magic would be gone. So I may be selfish and refer to it as just that; The Secret Garden. Although in all fairness, said garden is so far off the beaten track that even if more people did know of it, I hardly feel that it's somewhere they would frequent. Fine, yesterday we finally found ourselves at the Hill Garden & Pergola in Hampstead.

There's not really much to say. It really is one of those places that has to be seen to be believed. It was just so beyond surreal, incredibly magical and really genuinely peaceful (no peacock cries or sirens this time), almost to the point of being eerie at points. Nevertheless, we both agreed, very romantic!

Another slightly chilly 'summer's' day, we were eventually torn away by want of tea and cake. Having completely lost my bearings, I was totally convinced that we were right by Kenwood House (we were not. It was at least two roads and the majority of a heath away) so we wandered in what I thought was the right direction for the teashop.

As fate would have it, the 'right direction' did lead us to a perfectly pleasant park with an even more pleasant 'Refreshment House' where we sat inside (still bothered by wasps in want of chocolate and sweet apple) to enjoy our tea and cake.

Legs well rested and the sun finally shining, we couldn't just head back home could we? So on we blindly plodded again in the direction (we hoped) of the Heath. I am ashamed to say that in the end, Google Maps came out, but thus we did eventually find the longest way round to Parliament Hill. Once there, I (in true holiday mode style) had a light nap, only interrupted for a short moment by my own fit of laughter at a yuppie pair of teens, one of whom genuinely responded 'yeah, totes' to her friend, at which point I completely lost it. I don't think they knew I was laughing at them...

The rest of the day continued much in the same sleepy vein. My excuse is that I was getting my energy up for the next four days of wedding mania. 'Til Sunday!