Hampstead Heath, London.

London on a sunny day is almost unbeatable. Sure, we may not have azure waters, bleached white sands or turtles stumbling out of the surf, but we do have rolling acres of parkland, amazing views and spades of culture.



When you combine these with sunshine, the wonderful company of international cat smuggler, old house adorer and fellow expat @JessonThames with the lure of an exceptional cup of tea, how can you go wrong? We were greeted with a peaceful yet vibrant Saturday morning scene, with locals drinking coffee whilst their dogs ran amok with waggy-tailed delight that only they can convey.



We giggled at this nesting duck’s ball graveyard, well played madam, well played.


We shared a cup of rather good Joe overlooking this little shack, before exploring the beautifully restored depths. But that’s a tale for another day.


 Beautiful Kenwood House.

There is something so lovely about hanging with fellow expats/bloggers; problems with pants (called trousers here), having a predilection for photographing food, laughing at the weird way that Brits pronounce their place names (Leicester, Southwark and Norwich to say but a few) and the strange yet comfortable feeling of not really having one single home.

Even better, when you realise that you share a passion for stately homes (and not just the desire to live in one)….


As we wandering the winding paths, we encountered so many corners, the gardens in full Spring bloom awash with an explosion of exuberant colour and the odd child exploding out of the shrubbery to share their discovery of secret stairways.

Our cultural palates whetted we adjourned to the café for a delightful repast. What more could you ever ask for?

There was only one fly in the proverbial ointment as we wandered back through the curving paths to civilisation. I know you can swim in a couple of the ponds scattered through the Heath, but it’s March. I mean, really?? We were both practically shivering just watching this guy dive off the pier.

One more glance behind us to that dichotomous view, and severe case of kicking myself for living here so long without exploring the Heath. 

This is London, baby. Zone 2 represent.


Have you discovered the delights of Hampstead Heath’s rolling hills recently?


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