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Photo Diary: Walk through Brick Lane

I had my mum and sister come and visit the other weekend, and knowing how much my sister loves hipster vintage stuff, and my mum loves great street food, I thought we could discover Brick Lane together.

Brick Lane is a national institution in London. The Shoreditch end is caked in amazing graffiti art, market stalls, tonnes of incredible smelling food and some real life hipsters to top it all off.

 

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As you can probably tell, this is also the weekend I discovered the macro setting on my camera. I’m getting used to all the extra buttons and options on my Olympus now, so expect better quality images as we go on. :)

 

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Photo Diary: Margate beach day

While Jonathan and I were on a weekend away to Margate for a friend’s wedding, we were blessed with glorious weather. Naturally, we hotfooted it straight to the beach, and I tried my hand at using my good camera. You’ll notice that lots of other people’s dogs feature in this little photo journey. You’re welcome.

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We spent the day hanging out, pretending we owned all the dogs, and just generally squeezing every second out of the sun we could. Also making lame sand hearts BECAUSE WE LOVE PDAS OKAY.

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Getting high in London

The thing with London is, there’s just so much of it. It takes an hour to get just halfway across it, there’s always new must-see places being added to your to-do list, and finding time to experience is tough- come the weekend or evening you’re already pooped from battling with three hundred other people for your place on a stinky tube.

Trying to catch a breather can seem like a near-impossible task, unless you’re a fan of locking yourself in your house for the whole day. Which, incidentally, I’m not/no one is. But I don’t need to worry that the constant honking of car horns, the never-ending bustle of the rush hour tube or the blaring of Evening Standard distributors is going to drive me a little bit mental. Because I’ve discovered a secret.

Getting high in London is not only super easy, it’s also seriously effective. All you need is a lift, a big ol’ building and preferably a fancy cocktail bar waiting for you at the top.

The Shard

I’m lucky enough to work in The Shard- London’s most famous pointy building- and the views are incredible. My office is only Level Three, so there’s no view to speak of there, but I do get to nip upstairs every few months for pay-day drinks. My number one recommendation for visiting The Shard is to skip The View. Though I’ve heard great things, it’s much more time/booze-effective to haul yourself up to floor 32 for a cocktail at Oblix or Aqua Shard.

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 The BT Tower

I was lucky enough to be invited to head up the BT Tower for a fancy-schmancy professional networking event. I was there to schmooze with big bosses, and managed to make a fool of myself by stalling mid-pitch, in front of two CEOs, to shriek “Oh my God, we’re moving” when I realised they’d switched on the 360-floor rotation. The sensation of being slowly spun around in the sky took a little getting used to, but the views it afforded was well worth the vague feeling I’d just been on the world’s slowest rollercoaster. You also get a nifty certificate so you can add something to your CV. Naturally, the fact that I was supposed to be working didn’t stop me from taking a selfie.

(Unfortunately, the Tower isn’t open to the public , so you’ll have to just gatecrash the next fancypants event they hold there.)

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Heron Tower

I am in love with Heron Tower. It’s not the most funky skyscraper in London- it doesn’t have The Shard’s edginess or the BT Tower’s revolving floor- but I have totally fallen for this badboy. Namely because it is home to the most delicious food I’ve ever tasted, and some of the most incredible views you can find of London’s skyline. I’m going to do a full review of the restaurant gets me salivating. I’ve not been to Sushi Samba, which is on the floor below, because I haven’t been able to convince anyone to pay for me (…yet). The lift is so fast, and because you have a full view of London as you soar up, some people I’ve been with felt kinda funny going up and down, but I loved it.

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There are a million other places I want to get a good old view from- I’m determined to get inside the Gherkin, I’m going to go for coffee at Centrepoint, and one day I’ll fork out for a whirl on the London Eye. Looking across the skyline is a gorgeous way to get a real idea of the city, and to take a much needed breather from all the business of the tiny, tiny people down below.

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Weekend away ‘essentials’. (#Blog4Trek!)

When I saw this Blog4Trek competition, I was pretty psyched. Trip to ‘Mericuh? Check. Enter by blogging? Love it. The topic is on travel? Lovely, loads of fun to write.

But then I started thinking about it. The topic is “What are your weekend away essentials?”- fairly innocuous, nice little glimpse into your travelling style and juicy enough to get your blogging teeth into. Right?

Wrong. The day I wrote out a draft, I was getting more and more irate. Nothing I wrote was actually an essential, more what I thought would sound snazzy or impressive. And hardly any of it was stuff that I actually took on a weekend away.

Always take black skinnies.” I chirped. “Great for clubbing through to camping, and no spill marks!” Then I went to Margate for the weekend, and packed a floaty pink dress and the only other clean thing I had in my room while I was packing- a tartan scarf. No black jeans in sight- and it was for the best. It would have been weird to rock up at a wedding wearing biker-chic.

Don’t bother with your fancy camera and tablet, you’ll only forget the charger!” I giggled. Then I remembered my last trip to York, where I got more work done on the coach than I think I did during my entire three years at University- all on my tablet- and still had the most gorgeous time wandering around tiny side streets.

Take a book- but choose wisely!” I squeeked, ignoring the fact I’ve been on a total reading-dry-spell for nearly two months, forgetting that my last trip to visit Oxford-based friends resulted in me being too hungover to board the right train, never mind settle into a cosy novel.

Annoyed, I deleted my draft. It turns out I’m not very good at following my own advice, and my weekends away are usually haphazard, last-minute, don’t-forget-the-train-tickets, oh-god-I-hope-I-brought-underwear, where-did-I-say-the-B&B-was packing affairs. Great. This meant I was going to have to write something corny about “pack only your sense of adventure“, when in reality, I want to say “Oh who cares, it’s only two nights. If you brought odd shoes or left your camera under your bed, you’ve got two days of relaxing, catching up, exploring or adventuring in front of you to make up for it. It’s not a bad compromise.”

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