There's something about London

I have always loved London.  Can you say that about a place you have only been to twice, 25 years apart? I think a lot of my love for London is about the idea of it, rather than the reality.  Growing up, I read a steady diet of English books - starting from girls boarding school stories to colonial Australian books where England was 'home' to dodgy chick lit about fashion and shopping to the Aga Sagas of the 80s and 90s - thanks Mary Wesley, Joanna Trollope, Libby Purves etc... plus too many more books set in England than I could list here.

So the opportunity to tag two days in London onto the Paris trip was irresistible.  And when we found ourselves out and about in London on a sunny Sunday morning at 7.15am (what was the point in going back to bed after being evacuated from the hotel for an hour at 5am?) I could not keep the grin from my face.

Walking beside the Thames from Tower Bridge up to Westminster, with coffee and a freshly baked croissant was sublime.  There were very few people around, the sun was shining, there was a little breeze blowing... it was right out of one of those books.

We stood on Westminster bridge (completely empty at that hour) and looked up at Big Ben, walked past the Abbey, through St James Park, up to the Palace, through Green Park, Hyde Park, Kensington Gardens and along Oxford St.  There were flowers and squirrels, swans on the Serpentine and dogs of every shape and size.

Ok, so by the time we got to Oxford St, it felt like I was walking on broken glass, but I didn't care.  It was London.

Then back to Tower Bridge to collect our bags, negotiate the tube to St Pancras, a brief stop at M&S for some snacks, and we were headed back to Paris.

But London?  You're on notice.  I'm coming back.