Conversation Pieces

So in April we said goodbye to our first London flat (and goodbye to having wifi at home until mid May!).

I was blasé about this move. After all, last time we’d moved home, we’d packed up our entire lives, driven 10 hours, and moved country. This time, we weren’t even leaving South East London.

And unlike last time, we were so ready to move. Our petite place had become to feel even more so, like it had shrunk in the wash somehow over the last year. Perhaps it was the kitchen sink that was always blocked, the mould that refused to die in the bathroom (and then destroyed my Scandi shower curtain in revenge) or ‘the day ALL the blue bottles came’™.*

Which is not to say that the flat was all bad, not at all. Just as time went on, the things that were funny at first – like the step that always caught your sock and put a hole in it – became less so. But we did get much better at darning socks. And darn it – socks, blockages, mould and yucky flies aside – we had fun this last year. 2013 will always be the year we moved to London and that flat will always be part of that.

So we approached moving with the excitement of two kids waiting for Christmas. Impatient, a little grouchy, a little too over excited. We packed in a hurry as if that could make the move happen faster. And then all of a sudden, as with all things you wait for, it had happened.

We moved.

Which, of course, is an understatement. There was lugging, there was lifting and shifting, and cursing ourselves for having so many books (a hallmark of any move we have ever done).

Not surprisingly, packing up all your belongings into boxes (and a multitude of tote bags when you run out of boxes) was more tiring than I’d have liked to admit. And oh being without internet for such a long time, well, oft.

But it was totally worth it.

I think we’re in the loved up phase with this flat… where every eccentric angle, every ray of dappled sunlight spilling through the windows, every drop of rain tapping at the skylight (possibly my favourite thing ever).

And ok, so it’s a rented flat, but it feels like it’s somehow very much ours and just to have somewhere to call home again is really rather wonderful.

Of course, we’re still sorting things, working out what fits where, discovering a need for furniture we don’t have yet… and even with more kitchen cupboard space we still don’t have room for all the vintage china I’ve collected over the years. But that’s the fun of moving right?

And the furry felines we live with… well, they seem to have settled in just fine. There’s carpet to roll about on, stairs to scamper up and perhaps most importantly a bit more space from each other. (Theirs is a relationship built on being always at least a couple feet apart, unless there’s a spider in the room.)

And the humans… we’ve settled in not too badly too. With more kitchen space, we’ve started cooking properly again (now we have an oven that doesn’t take 90 mins just to cook a veggie burger), I’ve started doing more crafty stuff (see the bright neon chairs in the second picture!), and generally just doing more happy chilling out when we’re at home (instead of frustratedly trying to tidy a flat that was impossibly impossible to tidy).

Yes, everything is going to be all bright now… or at least, a little more neon than before!

*******

*the day ALL the blue bottles came™…

A day that will live on in my memory forever.

If you’re eating, planning on eating, really dislike blue bottle flies, don’t read this bit!

[...]

339 days ago, I moved to London… 

In those first days, people would ask regularly ‘are you absolutely loving it’? Those exact words.

And I didn’t have a good answer. Did I? I really wasn’t sure.

It was good. I liked it. It suited me. But love? 

It’s hard to love something so familiar and so strange all at once.

But, after nearly a year, I’ve realised that to love London is to admit you’re thrilled by something massive, sprawling, wonky, overcrowded, brilliant, bonkers, irreverent, complicated and altogether glorious.

It’s like a proper relationship. You’ll have your good days, your bad days, and the days that make you feel like there could never, ever be another city for you.

Which is strange to say as I know a big part of my heart still belongs to Edinburgh (and I gave away some of it to Brooklyn and Tokyo too)… but it’s impossible to think of anywhere else when you’re staring up at Big Ben or gazing down on St Paul’s.

It’s the old and new. The history. The heartbeat.

It’s the music that spills out of tiny flats on hot summer nights. It’s the solidarity of waiting on late buses. It’s the smiles in the crowds. It’s the voices you hear in the streets. The laughter, the anger, the humanness of it all.

So here’s to you, you wildly strange place I now call home… this is my love letter to you, all with the help of a shiny marble and a rather gorgeous Spring day.

Yes, I think we can definitely call this love.

Love you London. Thanks for the last 339 days, here’s to many more xx

“It looks like a bad burger”.

We both stared at the forlorn lump of batter, burning gently at the edges. Brown bubbles simmered on its surface. Smoke began to rise from the pan.

“I don’t trust this frying pan.”

At some point, suspicion turned upon the frying pan… because you know if you can’t blame the implements, what can you blame. We swapped it for another pan. This did not improve things. Perhaps more red food dye was the answer…

“For a lot of red, we’ve created a lot of brown.”

I stirred the weird lumpy maroon batter mix, thoughtfully. With every stir, the mixture grew browner. Not a nice chocolatey brown, but an inedible shade of blurgh. My main thought: pancake batter and natural food colouring were not a good mix. Also, it smelled strange.

 “This is going to look weird in the sewer after I flush it down the toilet.”

There was only one thing left to do with the mix – and it was not cook and eat it. So down the toilet it went. This was our second batch. (The first had not been nearly so disastrous, the third would be worse.)

“Are we just frying a cake now?” 
“Well, we are Scottish…” 
“We’re not deep frying it.”
“Not yet…”

By this point – the third attempt – we’d created some sort of pancake-cake-biscuit. And a high level of hysteria. Blame the food colouring, but now we just had a massive fit of the giggles. So much so, that I nearly choked on a mouthful of pancake-cake-biscuit. Which somehow seemed even funnier.

Sensible people would have given up… but oh no, not us.

•••••••••

So how did this misadventure involving a whole lot of red food colouring, batter and a potentially misbehaving frying pan come about?

Back in December, we’d stopped somewhere for breakfast. American breakfast. You know, the hearty, heart-stopping kind of breakfast that means you won’t have to eat again that day. And I spied on the menu… Red Velvet Pancakes.

Which seemed like a must order. I love red velvet cake so surely Red Velvet Pancakes were going to be AMAZING. (I was hungry, jet lagged and over-enthused.)

The very nice waiter informed us that their breakfast menu had finished for the day – but their lunch menu was now on. So I had mac ‘n’ cheese for breakfast. Which as your first meal of the day is a whole lot of wrong. (Yes, coming from the girl who wanted red velvet pancakes!)

So, we had to come back. The waiter (a different one) eyed us nervously – two Scots demanding, pre-coffee, that they wanted breakfast was obviously more than he’d expected to deal with first thing.

He did a sort of hop from one foot to another as he explained that the usual guy who did the pancakes wasn’t in today but he was sure the Thursday guy could give it a go.

The pancakes arrived. They looked beautiful. So red, so pretty, so Instagram friendly.

But they tasted of… nothing. Not bad, but not great. Just bland. And then I said the magic words…

“We should make these ourselves when we get home. But better.”

Now to be fair, our first batch wasn’t bad. (Which is Scottish/British for pretty darn good.)

We’d used two tubes of Dr. Oetker food colouring gel and had some red-pink batter.

“We need another tube. Sod the E numbers.”

But we only had two… so red-pink would have to do.

So we ended up with swirly, heart-shaped pancakes… which super tasty and pretty much tasted like red velvet in a slightly chocolate-y, red-pink way.

Sensible-ish people would have stopped there. (Sensible people wouldn’t be adding food colouring and chocolate to pancake batter would they?)

So we decided that we’d make another batch another day. But better. (Ah that word again.)

Now as you now know… batch 2 and batch 3 were an unmitigated disaster of inedible proportions.

But batch 4… well, this time we were going to nail it. Or die trying.

However… batch 4 also coincided with a Sunday. And where we live, supermarkets close early on a Sunday. (Well, too early for people who suddenly want to make pancakes at 5pm.)

So, we went off to the local corner shop for eggs, flour and more food colouring.

And came home with eggs, flour, pink Nesquik milkshake powder and red colouring for curries. 

Now, let’s get this out of the way. Nesquik milkshake powder does something weird to pancake mix.

To be fair, nowhere on the packaging does it indicate that you can make strawberry milk that you can add to batter.

So if you’ve ever wondered about this, wonder no more.

So, food colouring for curries it was…

We used a teeny, tiny, ickle drop and made pink batter.

Pink not red but the pancakes were rising and smelt lovely. So pink is where we stopped.

And they were good. Insanely good. 

We had made rose coloured velvet pancakes. (I was so over the idea of red by this point.) But that wasn’t why they were so tasty…

In fact, it had nothing to do with the colouring or the chocolate… and everything to do with just being darn good pancakes. And the sprinkles, icing and strawberries.

Now sensible people would have stopped there… and for once, just for once, we were those sensible people. With happy tummies and a whole lot of pancake making mess to clear up, we called it quits on the red velvet pancake experiment.

So, on the off chance, you actually want to make some pancakes after reading this, here’s our tried and tested pancake recipe (cut out from New Woman magazine some years ago)… add chocolate and food colouring at your own peril!

Makes 6 large pancakes

Ingredients:

125g plain flour
2 tbsp caster sugar
Pinch of salt
4 tbsp baking powder
2 large eggs, separated at room temp
250ml full-fat milk (don’t add Nesquik)
6 tbsp melted butter, plus a little extra for cooking
Sprinkles/fruit/icing/maple syrup for serving

How to:

Mix the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt in a large bowl. Whisk in the egg yolks, melted butter and milk. Keep whisking to create a batter, but don’t overmix it (it’s OK if it’s a bit lumpy).

In a separate bowl, whip the egg whites until they hold soft peaks. Fold them into the batter with a spatula. Pour into a measuring jug and gently add blueberries (if you want blueberry pancakes of course!).

Heat a heavy non-stick pan. Add a tbsp of butter to coat the surface and pour in some of the batter. When bubbles form on one side, flip the pancake over with a spatula. Brown for 30 seconds or so and then continue with the remaining batter.

Serve as you please… though in my opinion, sprinkles are a necessity!

On 34th Street is where we start this tale… all about a girl and a boy and a big shiny city called New York.

Now, they’d come here before – last time during a hurricane – and that hadn’t felt quite enough.

So they returned to do a re-do. But not for oh so terrifying Halloween this time… they came for Christmas instead, surely the weather would be less scary she said!

And oh New York, you did not disappoint. Yes, it was colder, the days were shorter, and our cheeks were pink from the biting wind… but it was all rather wonderful all the same. Especially as we were treated to a glorious coral-pink-orange sunset every evening.

And then there was this guy… now as much as I love Halloween, well, Christmas is Christmas. So there was Santa spotting to be done.

Turn a corner and all of a sudden, and you’ll find the red suited dude on motorbikes (NYC Santas have upgraded from reindeer). With Santa Claus is Coming to Town blasting out from somewhere. Obviously.

But we couldn’t come all the way without meeting the real deal. Now watching Miracle on 34th Street had led me to believe that the actual big guy is to be found at Macy’s department store. So grinning – like the dweebs we are – we joined the queue to meet Santa…

What we’d expected was a big queue of kids that we could sneak past and get a quick snap – from afar. Instead, we turned a corner and an elf told us to ‘go this way’… and suddenly we were in a room – alone, well, us and elves – with Santa.

Still holding hands, we pressed ourselves against the back wall, possibly terrified, and had to be beckoned towards him.

Which resulted in this awkward photo with the ‘real’ Santa… who clearly might not be the real Santa as…

… as when the legends Sir Ian McKellen and Sir Patrick Stewart met Santa at Macy’s too, that’s definitely another Santa. Shock. Horror! (Also they seem a whole lot more onboard with getting their picture taken than us it has to be said. Cooler than us!)

That said, give me the Yeti from the Saks Fifth Avenue Christmas window… and I am this happy. (Yeah, I know I am soooo logical!)

Essentially the window at Saks told the story of a Yeti who makes snow… who travels to New York. So far, so Elf.

It was such a popular window that you had to queue to see it. Yes, queue to see a window! (We may have cheated and just taken these pictures over people’s heads!)

As well as Santa (and Yeti) stalking, there was Christmas tree hunting to be done… so we went to see the Rockefeller Tree. Along with almost everyone else in New York. Nothing more festive that being crushed in a crowd of hundreds while looking at a big tree. Humans are weird when you think about it!

And it is BIG… but then when you look at it next to the Rockefeller Center, it’s pretty teeny really.

Instead my favourite Christmas tree of all was the one at the American Museum of National History with its origami decorations!

Complete with origami dinosaurs… really, really, really wished they had ones to take away!

I can’t have been the only one hoping for an extra huge tree though as these HUGE baubles prove.

Imagine the size of the tree that would go with these lights! (I was a little happy to find these!)

And when we weren’t tracking down all the Christmassy things… we were hanging out in Greenpoint and Brooklyn eating ALL the things.

Like vegan hot dogs from the indoor version of the Williamsburg Smorgasburg… London can we have have some vegan hot dog places, please?

Insanely sized and tasting pancakes that came with honeycomb butter (yes, honeycomb butter!) from Five Leaves…

Crazy good ramen burgers for him… so good he went back twice. Really wished they had a veggie version!

And Cheese Pops for me… yes, a cheese plate on a stick. Still confused? See below.

Choux pastry with amazing cheeses and mouth-watering toppings. Each one was better than the last.

I had to run back to the guy who sold me this and tell him just how fricking amazing it was.

Then I didn’t want to eat anything else in case it spoiled the memory of those cheese pops!

And when we weren’t eating ALL the things… there was street art to spot and walls to rock.

You know you’re in an area that’s cool with street art when you can do it when the police are so close by.

Ok. Not entirely sure why ok = rarr in my book but apparently it does. Ok?

A future record cover for a single that has not yet been recorded?

Not a future record cover perhaps… but I get points for being exuberant. I may have just had a strong coffee. (Perhaps we can blame my new crazy ‘getting my photo taken’ style on my recent take-up of coffee?)

And of course no trip to New York is complete without the following:

… a trip to the wonderful High Line. I’ve been now on sunny days and on crazy cold days, and it’s beautiful whichever way.

… some theatre… and my second mention of the legends Sir Patrick Stewart and Sir Ian McKellen. We were lucky enough to see them in one of my favourite plays. As they’d you expect they were legen… wait for it… dary.

… doing something totally random… and for us, this was going to a spelling bee. Yes, an actual spelling bee.

I have never felt so stupid in all my life. I knew two words out of everything from the whole night. (And one of them was a Scottish word ‘Strathspey’ so that was cheating!) However, it was very funny though – so many characters!

… and doing something else really random… like driving a NYC bus…

… and did I mention the random… isn’t this the best Christmas decoration ever? Love you NYC!

So ah New York… you were big, you were shiny, you were busy, you were crazy…

You were colourful, you were exhausting, you were sparkly, you were full of calories…

And oh gosh you were rather damn lovely. So until next time…

Have a merry Christmas everyone… and if you see Santa, say hi from me. I know him. (Even if I am slightly scared of him!)

Really we should have more practical rules for living in a small flat.

Like having less stuff, tidying more,
not leaving our shoes right at the door.

Food would be good, as opposed to empty
cupboards and only cheese in the fridge.

(Even if it is really good cheese.
Also: chocolate is not food.
The same goes for that jar of jalapenos.)

Oh we should.

But we don’t.

Instead we have things like a Menu-festo.

Designed to remind us how we want to live ours lives… as opposed to how we should.

And to entirely justify spending whole days (and nights) out exploring London…

So, yeah, if you’re ‘daring to freestyle’ then the dishes can wait.

If you’re ‘dreaming bigger’ then socks can ball themselves.

Or that’s what I told myself when I was putting all the letters on the board!

Other flat rules include…

No whining, no complaining, and no frowning
(if at least to avoid creating lots of forehead wrinkles).

Most of these rules apply at 6.30am/7am.
That’s my most likely time to whine, complain, frown
and be like a bear that’s just been woken up during hibernation.
(I do so love my sleep!)

Elsewhere in our little abode… we have Mr Tiger (and some polka dots too), this amazing I Pretend To Work print (not true but we love it anyway) and a framed tea towel from one of my best friends.

All three things sum up one rule completely: try not to take things too seriously.

(While the #velveteencat is demonstrating the rule that all interior shots should have a cat or dog in them. Fact. Really just look at a copy of Elle Decoration or Living Etc and you’ll see what I mean.)

This rule… taped to the inside of our front door.

Mainly because a certain not really a morning person needs to be reminded of such stuff.

Yes, life is good.

(Even if going back to bed seems like a better option.)

Rule 6: No TV. Yes, really. We have no TV in London.

We left our old one in Edinburgh and then didn’t get another one.

But like all rules, this is made to be broken.

Instead we have a projector. So we can roll up this map,
and just project whatever we want to watch.

Which means the rule is really…

Rule 6: No bad TV. Only good TV and movies worth the effort of projecting!

Coloured chalk in our letterpress tray…
because sometimes you just need a bit of colour. Or a piece of chalk.

A definite rule that one.

Um, so this rule…

… why be grey when you can be neon?

Maybe?

This. Always this. I don’t think I laugh nearly enough.

Children apparently laugh 300 times a day.

Adults laugh around 20.

I’m aiming for somewhere inbetween…
without being that crazy, laughing by themselves person
everyone moves away from on the Tube!

Second demonstration of the cat rule…

Not a rule… but a reminder. Crafting is good for the soul. Even if most of it is too bad to share on here.

I recently started a daily sketchbook – like an illustrated diary – and it’s so nice to sit and scribble just for the fun of it. They don’t have to be good, they don’t have to be bad, they’re just for me to see which is pretty nice.

And one last rule… ‘Home is wherever I’m with you’. (As blocked by the #foxowlcat!)

So many people ask us if we miss our old home.

And while I miss the floorboards, the sunsets, the fireplace…
where we are now feels like home because it is.

I’m here, he’s here and the two little furry fiends are here.
That’s everything we need. Everything that home is.
(Plus a few sideboards, prints and chairs of course!)

On July 28 2013, 9.49 pm and 32 sec.
A blue fly of the Calliphorides species, 
Whose wings can flutter 14670 times per minute 
lands in Saint-Vincent Street, Montmartre.

At the exact same time, near the Eiffel Tower, 
a girl from Scotland stands amid a crowd of tourists, 
with the biggest grin, perhaps ever, on her face.

Approximately 9 hours and 49 minutes and 32 seconds earlier...
She'd been drinking tea in her London flat, listening to the radio
And pondering what to do with today and two days off work...

"What about Paris?" This was her other half, making coffee,
And peering at his ipad with a slight smile on his lips...

Zoë raised an eyebrow, was he being serious? 
That small smile turned into a big grin...
Did she want to go? Mais bien sûr!

30 mins of frantic packing, random clothes chosen, 
A hotel booked in the 19th arrondissement...
A dash to the train station, for once on time...
The Underground behaving itself (it must have known)
And before you knew it, departure lounge.

Zoë likes: impromptu visits to Paris... 
Going to the supermarche to buy French crisps... 
Saying merde just for the fun of it... 
And pretending to be Amelie for a day or two.

Zoë does not like: windy days when wearing a flippy skirt. 
(This has now happened in Tokyo and San Francisco too. 
You think she would learn but no!)

Her other half likes: buying a baguette to munch on throughout the day.
And picking up delicious baked goods, with comedy names.
"We got a divorce in Paris... and it was damn good".

He does not like: that he slips into Spanish when ordering in French.
Je voudrais deux divorce por favor...

Zoë likes finding street art in unexpected places. 
She especially likes this beautiful ones by Alexis Diaz 
(He did a very cool Elephant Octopus in London which she loves.)

She also likes Rue Dénoyez – a much graffitied street in Belleville
Riots of colours, with layers and layers of art painted over art...
And at one end, Aux Folies... the perfect spot for a café au lait.

And spotting space invaders by Invader...
High up on walls, perched on street signs, 
Some tiny, down by your feet...

		
		
			
			
		
	

Some larger than life... just like Paris itself.
(Can you tell he lives in the City of Light?)

In 2001, Zoë first saw a film about a French girl called Amelie, 
Who worked in a cafe called Cafe des deux Moulins...
 
		
		
			
			
		
	

In 2013, Zoë first steps foot into that very cafe. 
There are no mad eccentric French characters, but... 
She does instantly fall in love with the tiled floor.

 
		
		
			
			
		
	

She also likes: the Metro station that's in the film.
(But not so much the tourists crowded round about it.)

		
		
			
			
		
	

And the Sacré-Coeur ... where Amelie leaves a treasure hunt 
Of sorts for the equally quirky lost boy she's in love with. 
(But not so much the tourists that are crowded round about it.)

 
		
		
			
			
		
	

And likes the view... with all of Paris laid out before you.
(But not so much the tourists that are crowded round about it.)

To escape the crowds,Zoë likes to visit the Louvre... 
(Only kidding. She came here to see the crowds.) 
That Mona Lisa lady sure gets everyone excited!

So many people, more impatient than you'll find waiting 
On a train at the Metro station...
So there's fun to be had in standing still,
Just watching them all, hurrying, scowling, 
Underwhelmed by the art all around them.

Some people are more easily entertained than others though...
Especially when they find a Marilyn Monroe vent in a museum.

		
		
			
			
		
	

But even people pretending to be Amelie have their limits.
(This smile says I want to go home now. I have been defeated by The Louvre.)

But this smile... is the pure joy of spotting gold dinosaurs
On the Champ Elysees. (Who are, ahem, better than the Mona Lisa.)

Zoë likes: returning to their weird but rather wonderful hotel 
Which has Batman masks (and other characters) over the lamps... 
Life is full of surprises is it not?

"Luc, je suis ton pere."
Bet you didn't guess this post would end up with a Darth Vader mask!

*****

Today's October 7th, it's 9 o'clock in the evening
At the Trône Fair the marshmallow-mixing machine mixes marshmallow.
At the same moment, at the La Villette garden Félix L'Herbier discovers .
that the number of possible connections in a human brain 
is superior to the number of atoms in the universe. Meanwhile, 
at the foot of the Sacré-Coeur, the Benedictines work on their backhand.

At that exact moment, Zoë publishes this blog post and stops referring 
To herself in the third person, makes a cup of tea, switches on the radio 
And starts pondering what to do with her next days off work.

Almost a month ago, we went on a trip back to the Isle of Wight… to be the Idle of Wight.

In my head, it was an Enid Blyton little adventure for two… camping, exploring, stopping for lemonade!

We hadn’t been back to the island since our mini moon… originally we said we’d go back on our first wedding anniversary, so we were at least a year overdue on our visit!

Home for the 3 nights was a Vintage Vacations airstream again… definitely one of my ‘happy places’ in this world.

Give me a big tin can to stay in, a bbq, a deck chair and some retro Italian tunes (the only CD we played when there!) and I’m in heaven.

Oh yes, and a spot of sunshine doesn’t hurt either it has to be said…

Of course, going back here has reignited my craving for a caravan…

This little guy with his cat ear lights and jaunty name was possibly my favourite… though I’ve recently spotted a version of him outside someone’s house on my way to work! So apparently parking a caravan outside your abode is more do-able in London!

Or even one of these… any will do if I’m being honest!

(Evidence of happy place-ness: twirling until you get dizzy. I promise I am older than 5!)

Here I also discovered my other new love… tiny blackcurrant Fabs, which are fab indeed. They came in a box of 12. I may have eaten more than my fair share!

And then on to our Enid Blyton-style adventures… first to a Lavender Farm for lavender scones, cream, jam and tea, where I saw more bumblebees in about 5 minutes than I’ve seen all year long.

I also discovered that taking pictures of bees isn’t the easiest thing… I have so many blurry shots of them bumbling about, and I kept having to move so I didn’t get stung (didn’t want to have a bumblebee’s death on my conscience!).

Oh and some butterflies too… who were just happily fluttering around. Less stingy those!

And then onto our next destination… believe it or not, this field is at a Garlic Farm!  (Yes, we were hitting all the farms that day!)

Having a bit of a Sound of Music moment here… I may have sang. (But I did wait until there were less people around!)

And even the garlic ice cream was rather nice too. (Garlicy in the way that salted caramel ice cream is salty if that helps explain it.)

The next day we went to Ventnor… complete with deck chairs and authentic British pensioners…

And pretty beach huts, angel wing shells, lots of dried seaweed…

And of course dinosaur sand ‘castles’! (Accidental dinosaur hunting might still be a thing!)

Then it was off to this tiny little place… which actually is a tiny little place!

Yes, we went to my first ever miniature village, which was very Hot Fuzz (without Timothy Dalton being speared by a small church spire of course).

Knocking at a tiny door… and trying to spy if there was any furniture inside!

Having a Godzilla moment and threatening to destroy the mini village… everyone does this right?

And a train full of dinosaurs! I swear this was like this when I found it…

This, on the other hand, was not like this when I found it…

On the last day, we went to Seaview (it does what it says on the tin!) to swim in the sea… and idly talk about having a boat.

Of course, I don’t really like boats but a girl can let the sea air go to her head!

And before we got the ferry home, the trip ended as all mini trips should end… with a scone that’s almost bigger than your head.

(And a happy biscuit just for good luck…)

“Any day with a dinosaur in it is a good day.”  me, circa June 2013

Our first sunny Wednesday evening in London, we decided to go dinosaur hunting…

Not to the Natural History Museum – despite the highly possible inception by this print (and our gold dinos) – but to Crystal Palace Park.

Where these misshapen beauties live. They were the first dinosaur sculptures in the world, meaning they look a bit like a 5 year old child’s drawing of a prehistoric creature, cast in stone. In the best way of course.

They are wonky and wonderful… and can’t fail to make you smile.

I mean really, these guys? He based these on frogs right?

And I’ve been ‘forced’ to buy a tea towel with them on it… attacking joggers in the park of course.

But not all of them are so “ferocious” looking… this one has been turned into a nest by a duck!

And then we returned home… no more dinosaurs to hunt out.

Until we went to the Heron Tower for a drink and spotted, from up high, some familiar looking creatures at the bottom of the Gherkin.

(He’s behind you… those stegosaurus types are always sneaking up on people!)

Yes, there’s a T-Rex just hanging out there… doing his thing.

And isn’t he possibly the happiest looking dino you’ve ever seen?

Days later, I spotted this guy in Shoreditch… but surely this was the last of our ‘dinosaur hunting’ luck though?

Then one night after work, we stopped for a coffee…

The first table we sat at was a bit grubby. Not majorly so, just someone else’s coffee cup, someone else’s crumbs… so we decided to move tables.

Crumb-free, cup-free… but with a tiny origami dinosaur on it.

So we took him home… via the Tube…

We named him Herbert. Because it just seemed like a suitable name.

We took him on a couple of weekend journeys…

Where he really liked looking out of the window…

And romping in the long grass…

And, erm, terrifying the locals. (Yeah, not so much!)

Since then, I’ve spotted no more dinos…

But seeing as I have a portable one now every day can be a good day as there’s a dino in it. 

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P.S. Any other London dinosaur spots/suggestions welcome!

P.P.S. Back in the ‘summer’ of 2012, I went to see a comedian called Bec Hill, who finished up her show with a piece on dinosaurs taking over London…

Maybe this is where my dino obsession started, or maybe it was because of this photo shoot, but either way it’s quite definitely a thing now!