Yesterday – Sunday – felt in every way like the last gasp of summer. With London Fashion Week kicking off on Friday, my inbox is close to buckling, and I have a bunch of projects underway, so I had to work.
But I was damned if I was going to sit in my flat, whilst London frolicked in 28C heat. So I put the lid down on my car, swung by lil’sis’, dognapped P Bad, and headed for the Heath.
I have a favoured spot on the cusp of Parliament Hill Fields and the Hill itself. I prop myself under a spreading oak tree, type with one hand, and throw tennis balls for the rat with each other.
Once P Bad was distracted by the bliss of digging multiple holes, I kicked back, staring up through the trees, and plotted and planned. It’s amazing how looking up clears the mind.