Rus In Urbe

My staycation in London was excellent, apart from finding that pretty much everyone I know is moving to one part of Somerset or the other. What’s that about? It’s completely bizarre. OK, not quite everyone but more than you’d expect. The West Country is ridiculously beautiful; I was lucky enough to drive from there to London via the A303, passing through Somerset, Wiltshire, Hampshire etc. Seriously, even on an overcast day, it was one gorgeous vista after another. Fields of poppies, fields of lavender, rolling hillocks, cows, sheep, it was absurdly picturesque. We also had the obligatory hold-up at Stonehenge when all the cars slow right down and we gawp at the site. If you are not in a hurry, nix the M4/M5 corridor and go M3/A303. You can thank me later. I had one of my fey turns as I was approaching Stonehenge; I must have been crossing a leyline or summat. Or maybe I ate a dodgy prawn, for the more prosaic among you 🙂 Stonehenge itself is interesting but it’s those barrows that really fascinate me. Are there linked tunnels, pyramid-style, I wonder? I do intend to actually go to those stones and attempt to move them and make them dance by using mind over matter and waving my hands. Unlikely, you say? Pah! What do you know anyway? First Excalibur, then I’m going to go the full Merlin with those stones.

I keep telling people how green and rustic London can be but they doubt me. All the images above were taken in Chiswick over the weekend, a mere stone’s throw from the A4 and the Hogarth roundabout. Pretty gorgeous right? or is that tautology? How fabulous is the Thames? That massive tree is an exact replica of the tree I was obsessed with in my old street. I used to lurk around and sketch it and take pictures of it. Eventually, I put paint to canvas and fixed it in place and now I look at it every day. My neighbours were wonderfully understanding, I must say. If it’d been me, I’d have taken out a restraining order. I’ll probably paint this house as well, now that I’ve fallen in love with the tree. Unlike Tracey Emin and her rock, I have no plan to wed the tree.

Funniest story I read was in the Evening Stannit (you have to say it out loud) about lunchtime drinking being formally banned at the London Metal Exchange. No more vodka on the cornflakes apparently – the traders are gutted. It certainly explains the yo-yo price of gold in the recent past, not to mention Gordon Brown flogging off the nation’s gold reserves for £2.50 and a string of beads. I wish I had a job that was so feckless someone has to formally ban drinking on the job before 5pm. Maybe I already do. Hic! Have a terrific week.