For the British, the Bank Holiday is an institution. It was the hot topic over the tea kettle in the office on Friday (tied with the, erm, unfortunate photo of his royal nudeness in The Sun). Everyone seemed to be going somewhere – to Devon, Brighton, Hastings…the weather was discussed, the star chart consulted, ‘Touch wood, it will warm up this weekend! I’m going to Cornwall, you know.’
For the ex-pat, the bank holiday can catch you unawares. They pop up like dandelions in the cracks of a perfectly ordinary week. You may not be prepared, and so find yourself catching up on chores or doing the boring things you always do on weekends, just…more of them.
Not this time!, I declared. I am going to do this thing PROPER and RIGHT.
Saturday – ok, I caught up on chores. But it was like, cold, and torrential-ly downpouring. So whatever.
But today. TODAY! We went to The Regent’s Park and went paddleboating (!!!) around the ‘boating pond’ and had a picnic in Queen Mary’s Gardens. It was some straight up Sense and Sensibility Victorian picnicking! But without the cholera! So more awesome!
Tomorrow’s the Natural History Museum, followed by scones and tea.
Not too shabby!