I don't know about you, but here in England we have just had a tremendous week. The cause? Sunny, even hot, weather in the middle of autumn. It's positively endearing, this British habit of professing to the world through a loudspeaker about the weather, should they (or is it we? have I become one of them?) be fortunate enough to be blessed with even a few days' worth of splendid sunshine. Is there really nothing else to talk about, when the country is going into financial decline? Perhaps that's exactly what it is, some sort of escapism from the dreariness of hearing 'NHS this, reform that' on the news every day. Yet this country is one of astonishing wealth and beauty, with so many traditions and achievements that there is no need for doom and gloom. I will say this until my tongue goes blue: beautiful, beautiful Britain, how lucky I am to call you my home!
Am I getting cheesier than a Mature Cathedral Cheddar yet? If so, let us swiftly revert to the original theme of this post and act like nothing happened (unless the last reference has made you disappear momentarily in the direction of the fridge). A walk to the local lakes on one of those blissfully perfect afternoons was the perfect reward for slaving over my university reading/application all weekend. Boater hat perched proudly on my head and flower garland on my sister's, old wooden badminton rackets in our hands, me wearing a vintage wartime-chic Laura Ashley dress in a liberty print with a lace collar. The only thing reminding us we were not in the 40s were the cars and dog-walkers slowing down to throw us a bewildered glance or two. What a difference to my post a year ago featuring the very same place!
Dress, Laura Ashley, vintage