Starting in South Ken

For someone quite proud of her ability to navigate London like a pro, it really surprised me that I had never stepped foot in South Kensington, other than to wander from the tube to Kensington Palace, but even then I believe I made my way there by walking through Hyde Park…hmmmm

By March the weather in the UK had brightened sufficiently enough to be able to spend hours into the evening wandering around, but the light of a new relationship certainly helped to enflame our adventures around central London.

“Dinner and then ice cream,” he said decidedly, taking the role of British tour guide and looping his arm through mine as we were rushed out of South Ken station by the bustle of London’s peak hour foot traffic.


Settling into our little tapas bar along the row of restaurants which lit up the streets, the Albert Hall glistening tall and proud in the backdrop, he ordered three dishes with chorizo. Giggling to myself, I waited for the onslaught of “oh, crap, what did I order?!” when the meal arrived, knowing he had no clue what he had ordered. Weeks later, reminiscing about our week in London together, he admitted he had tried to impress me but clearly had no clue!



The rain drizzled and provided the subtle tap-tap underfoot as we emerged from tapas – him clearly stuffed with chorizo (I don’t eat meat, so me not so much) but eager for an ice cream to delude our wishful minds into believing it really was spring already (though not really – the cold just gave that added incentive to huddle close together, strong arms linked together, his hand on my back) xx

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