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Lazy Sunday afternoon in Hampstead Heath

Hampstead is only ten minutes away from our house, but it feels like another world. After aimlessly wandering the heath for a while, we managed a concerted effort to make the brisk walk up to the top of a muddy Parliament Hill, from which, amidst kite flyers and wet dogs (all apparently about to do that just-come-out-of-a-lake, shakey-shakey, thing), we surveyed a grey and impressively distant London–the volume of the wailing police sirens the only reminder of the actual (rather than perceived) proximity of the city. Sensing the impending rain, we headed for the village. Every turn we made through the quiet streets around it reminded one of us of somewhere else–Sally thought, in turns, of parts of Edinburgh and Ireland, and walking back to the station in the rain and the darkness later on, the houses on the edge of the heath reminded me inescapably of the edges of the Downs in Bristol.

1 thought on “”

  1. This is a very visual post. I like it.

    Regarding non-post life, I should be coming along tonight. I feel better now than I did this morning. Perhaps it’s cheeky to go out in the evening when you haven’t been at work during the day, but I can’t really help it.

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