taking the gloomy bank holiday monday by the horns
After two days of pottering inside (mainly) and ruined hopes that we'd be walking in the sun on the third, we decided to go out, still, but close enough to home that the rain threatening to fall any minute could not drench us before getting back home. When one puts it so simply, we're spoilt for choice: there's Regent's Park, and Regent's Park, and then there's Regent's Park. We'll surely miss it when we move out next month, but knowing every nook and cranny in it isn't the greatest USP. Though when you come across a runaway bride/ Asian lady with a great sense of fashion (humor?), hope is born again that some level of excitement can be found on the previous hunting grounds of the aristocrats. Like pink chestnut flowers. Not quite the impact of the Asian flame trees, but certainly more striking than the white chestnut flowers in Romania.
Walking round the lake, I stopped and marveled at this white wisteria, while Chris theorized that beyond the net covered in blooms, where the garden looked more wild and appealing (I want to go there!) is not an area opened to commoners, but rather part of the American Ambassador's Residence.
The minaret has always caught my eye from across the lake, but only from this angle could I take in more of the mosque. If this isn't London, I don't know what it is. The playground of swans silently gliding in and out of private waters, perhaps.
In the peddle boat, many a nature scene seemed novel: mothers and fathers feeding offsprings, tiny moorhens in nests perched on every available branch, and even baby seagulls struggling to swallow the rare fish. For a while it even got interactive, as we followed a duck places, until both the duck and the audience got bored.
And before heading to a pub, even farther away, we feasted our eyes on the only rays of sun about, water irises and buttercups. In the end, the ever threatening raindrops spared us. What did we learn? That bank holidays will be enjoyed even if it takes the extra jumper. Or furry gloves, in Northern parts, I'm told.
Walking round the lake, I stopped and marveled at this white wisteria, while Chris theorized that beyond the net covered in blooms, where the garden looked more wild and appealing (I want to go there!) is not an area opened to commoners, but rather part of the American Ambassador's Residence.
The minaret has always caught my eye from across the lake, but only from this angle could I take in more of the mosque. If this isn't London, I don't know what it is. The playground of swans silently gliding in and out of private waters, perhaps.
In the peddle boat, many a nature scene seemed novel: mothers and fathers feeding offsprings, tiny moorhens in nests perched on every available branch, and even baby seagulls struggling to swallow the rare fish. For a while it even got interactive, as we followed a duck places, until both the duck and the audience got bored.
And before heading to a pub, even farther away, we feasted our eyes on the only rays of sun about, water irises and buttercups. In the end, the ever threatening raindrops spared us. What did we learn? That bank holidays will be enjoyed even if it takes the extra jumper. Or furry gloves, in Northern parts, I'm told.
Labels: lovely uk
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