I love Sundays. They are in fact the highlight of my week. I love having one of those rare lie-ins, a huge breakfast with lots of bacon, some photo trips, new café discoveries with my coffee gals and, to round everything up, going to church in the afternoon. That would equal coming home to a huge living room filled with lovely people that feel like you’ve known them all your life.
Last Sunday morning, there happened to be an exciting thing going on in my neighbourhood. Keats House was opening its literary doors for a vintage market, cake gathering (which might or might not have been the main reason for my visit) and summery joy in the garden. I also met a writer called Charmaine who was mainly selling jewellery and other accessories, all of which looked like they had an exciting history (in the best possible sense). We were chatting about how she’d been working in the publishing industry in New York. Yes, I literally had to be dragged away because I couldn’t stop asking for more little snippets from the Big Apple and journalism.
So all these quirky books, clothes and pieces of art were thrilling enough of course, but so was the sun. There’s nothing quite like Hampstead Heath for a decent focus on the week that lays ahead. I also highly recommend taking a nap in the sun one of its numerous hills, even if it’s just for a couple minutes. Now that summer is fast approaching, I can’t wait to swap the usual café tables for some tree stumps to write on (I somehow needed to make that reference back to John Keats, didn’t I!?) and green hills. Gotta love Sundays!