My my, but it is hard to get into the swing of this regular blogging thing. I choose to blame my apartment. I used to blog so regularly before I moved here. As soon as a knit was off of the needles I would dutifully snap a handful of pictures and rattle off a post. But for all that I love my current place of residence (for reasons including but not limited to its proximity to delicious laksa) one thing it lacks is a decent spot to take photographs. Every time I try and photograph a finished object or a delicious plate of food, the light deserts or a door handle sneaks into the frame. And obviously this is the fault of my apartment, not my lack-lustre photography skills. Scapegoats abound today.

At any rate, I am now long returned from my adventures in the northern hemisphere, and one thing that can certainly be said for Iceland is that there is plenty of place to take photographs without invading door handles. Hence I find myself devoid of excuses.

The trip kicked off in good old London. Having flown in via both Brunei and Dubai, I was jet-lagged to the proverbial gills by the time I arrived. Piscine idioms feel appropriate because I spent my first day doing the same thing that I always do upon arriving in London (Pinky), this being my pilgrimage to the Museum of Natural History. I’m not sure I will ever have my fill of this place. On the rare occasions I tire of staring at baleen, silicified wood, and stuffed wildebeest, I move on to gawping at the building itself. The detail never ceases to fill my cynical heart with awe.


I am not hard to please when in London, when it comes down to it. All I really want to do is wander the museums until I run out of feet, and then loll around in the parks until they grow back again. This time around I hobbled with blistered feet through the British Museum and the V&A, fell recklessly in love with Kew Gardens, and spent far too much time curled in the grass in Kensington Gardens, chatting with friendly local birdwatchers. London put on some truly gorgeous weather and idyllic is really the only word for it all. Seriously, I am still swooning over Kew Gardens like a lovesick teenager.



There was also a bonus exhibitionist peacock.


Next post: Iceland, the gorgeous land of Skyr and fjord-induced carsickness!


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