If you have lived in a city for a long while, maybe all your life, you find yourself photographing its sights less and less, however lovely there may be. Do I really need another photo of the Tower of London? Of St Paul’s Cathedral? Of the river Thames?
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On the outskirts of Nairobi is a very special place, where orphaned baby elephants find safety and refuge… Thus I started a blog post last May about the amazing work being done at the David Sheldrick Elephant Orphanage. Imagine how thrilled I was when many of those residents made their way, in sculptural form, to London’s Spitalfields Market!
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In a previous post I took you on a walk along the River Tyne in Newcastle and introduced you to its famous bridges. But I neglected to mention all the public art to be found along the Quayside. So now I want to rectify that omission.
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Although we love to travel, we have always spent Christmas at home in England. Not for us the snowy ski slopes of the Alps, or the tropical shores of the Caribbean or Far East. Tempting as the latter sound, we save trips to warmer climes for February, when the long chilly season is really dragging. Christmas is a time for the comforts of home, and for family.
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It would be hard to visit Dorset without at some point coming across the name of novelist and poet Thomas Hardy. He is inexplicably linked to the county, so many places in which featured in his novels. On a recent visit to the county I found links to Hardy everywhere.
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When the Domesday Book was written, in 1086, what is now the pleasant London suburb of Ruislip was known as Rislepe, ‘leaping place on the river where rushes grow’. The book also tells us that it had more pigs than human inhabitants. These pigs roamed the extensive woodlands; and Ruislip Woods remain to this day, although smaller than they once were.
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If you want to find street art in London (and I mean LOTS of street art) you could do far worse than to head to Shoreditch. This trendy (albeit some say ex-trendy) district is a mecca for enthusiasts, both those who create and those, like me, who go to admire.
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In recent years I’ve been fortunate to celebrate my birthday in a number of different places. A memorable day in Ecuador visiting Cotopaxi, which was somewhat spoiled by an attack of altitude sickness! An even more memorable one in Ranthambore National Park in India, where a guide promised to find me a birthday tiger – and did! A day spent travelling to the Atacama in Chile, one of my dream destinations. A number of birthdays in Paris, including my 40th when my husband surprised me with a weekend visit. And a lovely birthday weekend three years ago in Lucca, Italy.
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What do you think of when you imagine a traditional British seaside resort? My guess is that Brighton would have pretty much everything on your list.
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When the Prince Regent (later King George IV) built his seaside retreat in the small fishing village of Brighthelmstone in 1842, he didn’t know what he was starting. Or maybe he did? After all, all the fashionable world of his time followed his lead in everything, so it was only to be expected that they would follow him to the town that soon became known as Brighton.
