HAMSTEAD HEATH

So after many a plan planned, none of them actually developed this weekend. Instead, plans changed.

As we know, the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.

And we love that.

Lavender fields were a bust, due to hours of operation and weather conditions {shocking, I know}, so that is going on the itinerary for next weekend. And then the weather turned, as it does, so museum hopping was out of the question. We take advantage of the big yellow ball in the sky when we see it. No excuses.

Although not on my bucket list, I had heard many good things about Hamstead Heath, and figured I would give it a go. The park that is.

I had done zero prior research, and had no idea what to expect.

As you would have it, I got completely lost in the park. Trails, both paved and not, weaved every which way throughout the park. I was constantly stuck at crossroads without a clue as to which direction I should be heading in.

Might be a reflection of my life.

Just might be.

But regardless, I was lost for most of my time wandering the green, hilly park of Hamstead Heath. I didn’t mind too much since it was a beautiful, sunny afternoon and the scenery was nothing worth complaining about.

I eventually found my way to the Kenwood House, which looked so regal up on it’s hill. I took a second to relax on the lush grass and get my monthly intake of Vitamin D.

It felt good to have some ‘me’ time. I do get quite a lot of ‘me’ time living here in London, but it isn’t always as serene as walking through fields of green with no where to be. I came to London with your typical soul searching/eat pray love/growing experience in mind.

I can happily say it’s been a success.

I needed London.

The way a candle needs a flame. Without it, it’s still a candle, scent and all. But adding a flame allows it to burn and become a better version of itself.

London was my flame.

I just feel better. I gained my independence back. And my confidence. And my desire to take advantage of life.

It wasn’t missing before, but when you’re in a rut, you’re in a rut. And London was my answer.

After many reflections and pretending I was Julia Roberts again {let’s not forget Notting Hill}, it was time to call the Kiwi squad and meet up.

I met up with Abbie and some of her friends at Camden Market. They then became my friends, and then we became the Beatles. It escalated quickly, yes. But that’s for another post.

It was necessary that we attempt to try a cronut.

Definition: A croissant-doughnut pastry with flaky croissant and custard interior and fried, sugar-dipped exterior.

Basically, heaven on earth for all of those capable of consuming gluten. For me? The worlds biggest tease.

You put ice cream in these ^ as if they weren’t already amazing enough…

Can we all stop drooling now? K, great.

It was a success for the girls. They were some happy Kiwis. And I was a dum dum. For not being able to enjoy a dum dum.

More on the weekend coming up this week! Stay tuned.