Skylines and Cappuccinos

A few weeks ago, I spent the day with my mother and sister. We walked golden city streets, explored hidden boutiques and lulled in and out of chocolatiers and perfumeries. Over the course of the day, we traced lines through the busy backroads, soaking in the September sunshine. From green park to Piccadilly and onto the London eye at Southbank. With the city spread out in front of us in a haze of sun, I feel a pang of regret about how I've treated my time here. I'm always eager to move on in life, to explore every crevice of every town in the world... Which can sometimes mean missing out on thing right under my nose. In my last few months here I feel I should make an effort to visit spots in the city I haven't been to before- especially taking advantage of Sunday markets as soon as I have a weekend free.

It's always a strange feeling leaving my family at the station, I kiss them goodbye as they travel back to the countryside and I journey east back to my apartment. In a way, feelings like this are strangely satisfying: weaning away from family life can feel liberating, isolating and wildly nostalgic, which is better than feeling nothing at all. 

We ate supper at Strada, bathed in evening sun and overlooking the lapping Thames. Salmon, pizza and pasta followed by cappuccinos and conversations. It was nice to give our feet a week deserved rest after Buckingham Palace. It's inspired my passion for gold guilding, chandeliers and fine crockery. All so regal and elegant, but a little over the top if George IV is anything to go by. I think I'd like to incorporate some of this into my future house... In little dabs of course. 

While walking back to my flat, I felt in ecstasy about everything - life felt golden and everything was right. I love moments like this, small flickers of beauty in nothingness. Perhaps this is happiness at its most divine core.