not dressed for foraging Tweet

It's very hard to remove me from the house or, more so, my garden at the weekend, especially if there's isn't a thrilling plan, often involving either a boat ride or train trip. It's then even more surprising I proposed a walk myself on Saturday, with some vague thoughts of foraging, a destination East of home, and a general desire to get away from the stifling atmosphere of the flat. Yes, I left my garden behind.

And right before leaving, I asked Chris to take a photo of my outfit, because I was wearing those tops for the first time this year and wanted to document that summer can happen to London. In the process of taking the snapshots, however, he couldn't stop commenting.

Chris: You don't seem dressed for foraging.
Me: I'm dressed for summer.
Chris: You're wearing heels!
Me: Wedges! It might be muddy for slippers.
Chris: Won't that... thing get tangled in the branches?!
Me, looking down the lace top: If it does, it lived a short but happy life.

And before he could mention the (fake) pearls, off we went into the sunset, a young grapefruit mint in my pink suede bag, but about that another day. To be continued, for sure.