Why I should have been a Victorian ...

Give me grass and dappled shade, peace, quiet, and the crumbling of graves.
(heart you oxford comma!)

A few ... weeks? months? days? I forget ago, I dragged Craig on an adventure.
An adventure to a graveyard. I bribed him with cupcakes.
We trekked and trekked and fought our way around building sites to find Old St Pancras.

In the graveyard is one of the only two Grade I listed tombs in London.
Sir John Soane, he of the jumbled and fabulous free museum, designed it and had it built at the death of his wife. Now he and his son are also there entombed and it has become quietly celebrated.



Sir Giles Scott used it as a base for his design for the iconic red telephone kiosk.



Can you see it?





And my favourite find, the beating heart of my adventure was the Hardy Tree.
Thomas Hardy (he of Far from the Madding Crowd and Tess of the d'Urbervilles) was an architect before he was an author and around 1865 he was tasked with the exhumation of human remains and the dismantling of tombs in Old St Pancras in order to make room for the Midland Railway line.
He moved gravestones and placed them around a tree. And then apparently they were forgotten about. Now, 142 years later they are being reclaimed by the earth. Absorbed into the tree they surround.



It's not small either ...











I may have been slightly obsessed by it.









My favourite shot. The sun hitting the headstones.




Older than (James Cook's) New Zealand!

After sitting in the sun and eating cupcakes (pink! with sprinkles!) we walked hand in hand around the graveyard and I broke off to take photos of my favourite headstones.



Crumbling, old, Miss Havisham graves really are my favourite.















I ended up muddy-kneed but happy.





Poor eyeless puppy.






p.s. Two recent google searches that lead to this little explosion of my mind:
Crossing Stephen's that is my green
photos college girls lying on beds

Because tonight I'm tired ...

All you get is sixteen seconds of the bells of St Paul's cathedral at night.



Yaaaaaaaawn.

The Big Knit


In my local Sainsbury's there are two shelves full of these attired-bottles.
And I don't think there is a single repeated hat amongst them. Which I absolutely love!

(they are an advertising/charity gimmick about helping keep the elderly warm.)

p.s. I an disappointed in myself! I missed our 666th day of marriage. Now it's 669. And that's just nothing at all.

Waggie tail and beg

Roger's First Attempt at Doggy Style Is a Success

Man: Arf, arf!
Lady: This isn't a playground.
Man: Arf, arf!
Lady: Arf, arf yourself!

--12th & 6th

via Overheard in New York, Nov 13, 2007

I'm reminded of the John Lennon poem (see below).
Which in turn reminds me of my father.

Which in turn makes me both happy and sad at the same time. Like a pale greyling lavender.

*Good Dog Nigel
Arf, Arf, he goes, a merry sight
Our hairy little friend
Arf,Arf, upon the lampost bright
Arfing around the bend
Nice dog! Goo Boy,
Waggie tail and beg,
Clever Nigel, jump for joy
BECAUSE WE'RE PUTTING YOU TO SLEEP AT THREE OF THE CLOCK, NIGEL.
- John Lennon

Late last night ...

Craig: I'm sorry for being ridiculous and pouty.
Me: I'm sorry for being ridiculous too.
Craig: I was mainly annoyed that I was annoyed at you, not really annoyed at you.

And once I worked that one out in my head, my heart melted just a little.

Lazing on a Sunday afternoon

Sometimes now when I go to the Tate Modern I am as much people watching as I am visiting my favourite artworks.

Temptation? Thy name is Brownie.

This morning Craig and I added boots and socks and big jackets to our outfits and trekked down to the Borough Market.
I cannot express just how much I love walking, hand in hand with Craig, along the Thames on a cool crisp morning. Especially if I have a Gingerbread Latte in my free hand.

The market is always crowded.
Possibly this is because we cannot seem to get there earlier than 10:30am.

One of my favourite places to take note of is the exotic-meat stall. It's tucked around a corner and I always peer into their fridge. Today they were selling crocodile, springbok, bison, and Zebra.
Next week we're going to the market again. I will try and get a photo of this!

We pick up lunch to eat in the grounds of Southwark Cathedral. Craig had his usual roast-meat-baguette but I went for a venison burger.

Today we also picked up a loaf of sea-salt encrusted olive oil and rosemary bread, and two insanely rich chocolate brownies.
They're sitting on the table in front of me now, taunting me. Craig is out at the supermarket and I told myself I wouldn't touch them until he got home ...



I havehavehave to take my mind off this. I'm going to the Globe!