I have a friend who spends between 30 to 45 minutes every night journalling. I’ve seen her journal and it’s fucking insane. I wish I had the drive to commit to that level of journaling. I’ve tried a bunch of different ways to ‘journal.’ Actually, I’ve tried two: actual journalling and audio messages. The audio messages have actually been fun to listen back to, but I also suck at doing them nightly (that and I also tend to ramble on for approximately nine to fifteen minutes). So, I’ve taken a page out of Chloe Plumstead‘s book and have decided to do a weekly photo diary as a way to remember wtf happened in my life.
On Saturday, we went to the Lake District for an Easter weekend hike (along with the entire population of England). However, we decided to do a quieter route than the typical Helvellyn, which had a literal procession of people streaming up and down its peak. I honestly don’t remember the hills we walked and can’t find them on any easily accessible map, but the two things I have to say are a) England is not one for switchbacks on walking trails and b) I bought my walking boots because they look like Danner Boots but were $400 less, but FUCK do they give me blisters. Turns out, looks aren’t everything, kids. I still have yet to give up on them completely. I’ve had them for two years and have definitely not done enough walking to warrant needing a new pair. Moreover, when I walk in them with thinner socks they’ve been alright, although I’ve not done a super strenuous hike in thin socks to test the theory. Either way, after 700m of elevation change and 18.2 miles, my one toenail is now going to fall off and my boot rubbed clear through my blister bandaid (and somehow gave me blisters around the band-aid. Confusion abounds. Also, I proceeded to show-off and do a headstand on top of one of the summits. Partially because I need to drain the blood from my feet, but mostly because I wanted the picture.
On Easter Monday we went to a National Trust site called Fountains Abbey, which was easily one of the most serene places I’ve been. First off, I have not yet been to a part of Yorkshire I haven’t found beautiful in some way. Second, the ruins were superbly well-kept, and the abbey is nestled in a small valley with a river running through it (as happens in most valleys). I still couldn’t wear shoes properly after our Saturday walk, so I walked around in socks and definitely stepped in some goose poo, but also I couldn’t feel it, so if I couldn’t feel it I could pretend it never happened. I also find the canola flowers absolutely stunning, and I take an inordinate amount of shitty pictures of canola fields out of moving car windows.
I went to work on Tuesday, so there isn’t too much exciting to say about it, except that I really love the patterns the sun makes on my walls in the morning. And I like showing off my fun millennial print.
I work near Tower Hill, and I’m legally mandated an hour for lunch, so I took the opportunity to go sit in the park with a coworker and just bask in the glow of the sun and other people and the fact that I can see the sky in London. Prior to this lunch and talking to my coworker, I had always felt bad about taking an hour for lunch. My team itself is small, four people actually, and two of them are very senior and generally don’t have the luxury of taking their hour for lunch (especially since one has a newborn at home, so fair enough). In a cultural moment where everyone wants to talk about how busy they are all the damn time, I felt lazy taking an hour for lunch, like somehow my job or my skills weren’t good enough to warrant me working from the second I stepped through the door until long past a normal workday should be finished. But my coworker, who’s older and also more senior, told me how much she strives to take that one hour a day because work is not your whole life, and the sun is shining and labour unions fought for your right to go the fuck outside. So go the fuck outside.
Finally went to Dishoom with two of my girlfriends. We waited for a little over an hour. Not something I would ever do normally, but I didn’t mind the wait with them. Not something I would probably do again, although I would eat at Dishoom again during their off hours.
Matt and I spent Sunday trolling around my neighbourhood. There’s a greenway that runs from Finsbury Park to Highgate Wood which is a lovely place to take a Sunday morning stroll. I like the UK because I feel that people here really value leisurely strolls, and that speaks to me on a deep level. I also walk by these coloured terrace homes every day on the way to the tube, and sometimes I just have to take a picture.