Apparently it’s been a while since I posted – sorry. I was at a private function (30th birthday party at Sandringham House, correction to Mumsie dear: ‘I meant I was at Ruby’s house for cheese and wine’).
Although, I love travel stories of any length – posts, stories, books – it’s time to shake things up a bit. Today is a beautiful day. Is it not amazing how we, in London, feel the need to undress and run around naked, with the slightest hint of sun, disregarding no change in the winter temperature? ….
What I am eagerly awaiting is that British icon: the sock-wearing sandal man. When he comes out officially, we can safely say that summer has arrived. With his shaggy pepper-blonde hair, his Hawaiian half-sleeve shirt, his beige-coloured corduroys; walking past stuffing an egg and mayonnaise sandwich down his throat. Angry with the world, it does not finish there. Let’s give a big cheer for the middle-aged divorcée, who brings new meaning to ‘mutton dressed as lamb’, with her huge sunhat, hiding appalling make up, bumble-bee sunglasses placed casually on top of the hat, wearing an exceptionally tight top with her cleavage spilling out.
However, all is not lost for there is always the Martini sitting by one of many beautiful parks, that we in London, are blessed enough to enjoy. Let’s savour the luxury that they have not become commercial land, so that we can watch the multi-cultural, beautiful people in London – heaven on earth, if I may say so myself. On the other hand, lest we experience the usual British summer downpour which will -undoubtedly – bring you crashing back down to reality. However the sun always shines in London.
Nevertheless, there is never an excuse to leave the house, without the infamous British brolly. It may be a designer or run-of-the-mill umbrella, but it is an essential kit of the British. Long live the brolly!