• Britain,  Tagged

    Cirencester Under a Colourless Sky

    You cannot let the weather beat you. We learnt that lesson in Norway when we went on a hike to Pulpit Rock. If the Norwegians did hold their head in their hands and sit inside because of inclement conditions outside, they would be inside, forever. The night before travelling to Stavanger, we were contemplating cancelling our flight tickets. The forecast was for thunderstorm and showers the whole weekend. Now, when we called the hotel we were booked with in Stavanger, we heard a cheery line from the other end: ‘There is no such things as bad weather, only bad clothes’. Right. Levels of optimism that might have tempted us to ask the person at the other end to ‘go…

  • Britain,  Tagged

    Antique Hunting in the Wolds

    Unworn. That single word inked on the tag hanging off the white wedding dress stared out at me. It was priced at 75 quid and possibly a size 12. I don’t why but it spoke to me of heartbreak, unless no one bought it, in which case it would have been heartbreak for the designer. The stories that a dress can tell is for the imagination to conjure up. I read this book once, one of those feel-good stories, where a woman inherits a vintage dress shop and finds little notes of stories behind the dress tucked into each ensemble. I was quite struck by the notion. How wonderful would it be…

  • Britain,  Tagged

    Vintage Sundays

      And because we all love Audrey  – I have not met a single person in my life who has not gushed at the mention of the beauty – here are a trio of postcards I bought during my travels. I love collecting tinseltown memorabilia too. Nuggets from Funny Face: [Dick kisses Jo] Jo Stockton: Why did you do that? Dick Avery: Empathy. I put myself in your place and I felt that you wanted to be kissed. Jo Stockton: I’m afraid you put yourself in the WRONG place. I have no desire to be kissed, by you or anyone else. Princess Ann: Have I been here all night, alone? Joe…

  • Britain

    My Rain-Soaked Northampton Days

    And that is not how dawn today looked. It is a shot from a couple of days before, taken by the husband before he set out for London for his daily commute to work. I do not get to see many sunrises because I am one of those people who can sleep so much that you would think that I am dead. The sky is uniformly drab and colourless and there are tiny drops of water speckling our bay windows as it drizzles away at a constant rate. I switch on all the fairy lights in the room, put on the cosy lamp at the corner of my round table and settle…

  • Britain,  europe,  Tagged

    Vintage Travel Memories

    A few summers ago in the Cornish seaside town of Tintagel I bought my first metal tin sign. I have been hooked since. Every place that we travel to I keep my eyes peeled for retro postcards and tin plaques. Postcards are the poor man’s option. They cost a fraction of metal tin signs which can be priced high depending upon where you find yourself. Mostly, because you cannot buy just one. This weekend while rummaging through a box, I came upon a bunch of postcards that I got during our various travels in Europe and England. I should not probably try and put a number to them because there are hundreds of…

  • Britain,  Tagged

    A Weekend in Oxbridge

    Oxford vs. Cambridge. The eternal debate has been going on for centuries now in England. The two institutions are referred to together as Oxbridge. Last weekend we decided to take a leisurely stroll through them. There was no pressure to explore since we have dealt with that about a dozen times. This included a couple of days of sauntering through illustrious colleges and daydreaming, downing ale, tucking into fish and chips, the works. Both universities are heavyweights in the world of academia. I tend to think of them as brothers, pre-eminent personalities, vying with each other for a more elevated presence in the same frame. Oxford is the older of the two with education…

  • Britain,  europe,  Tagged

    My Cosy Corner of the World

    Every time my husband, Adi, and I come back home with our strolleys, open the door and lay our eyes on the pub signs hanging off the walls of our short entrance corridor, the heart sighs. Almost audibly. That wonderful feeling of letting go, ah. I throw myself on the sheepskin fur sitting on our couch and flop back with happiness. I look around and let the eyes wander for ‘the eye has to travel’ as fashion editor Diana Vreeland puts it. There is much for the eye to take in, in our apartment. For our home decor is at the other spectrum of minimalism. Would I care for a fridge bare…

  • Asia,  Britain,  europe

    In the end is the beginning

    I have always thought that it makes a whole lot of sense. What our good man Eliot wrote. Even though another year is coming to an end, there is always a fresh year to look forward to. Wonder what it holds in store for my husband and me. We have new things creeping around the corner. Moving countries, setting up a new home, a new start. Daunting. Yet we gotta make the best of the hand we are dealt in life, isn’t it? There is a bagful of nostalgia and wistfulness to go with it. The year for my husband and me has been about travel and the accoutrement that comes…

  • Britain

    Brixton Village

    The taco man is a forerunner of the alternative scene in Brixton. In South London is this gem of a food market that gets you the moment you walk in through its portals. Now Brixton Village Market ain’t your corner if you are looking for posh dining and drinks. It has a homey vibe. It is the kind of place where you where you relax with friends, browse in boutiques, eat, walk, browse some more and nosh to your heart’s content from a potpourri of cuisines. It ticks off the essential ingredients that make a food market piquant. Cornucopia of colours, kiosks and eateries enticing you with edible goodies and just enough street fashion to keep the…

  • Britain

    A Chunk of South West Wales

    In the midst of all our European jaunts, we had left behind the strong love that my husband and I nurse for our English country holidays. If anybody claims that there is nothing that compares to the countryside in Britain, that would be me. Adi would nod vigorously in assent. On a Friday noon, we booked a cottage and drove through the cool evening, four hours away from home. It was late at night when we rolled into the pebbled driveway of the cottage tucked into a quiet hamlet in the Carmarthenshire county of Wales. A tablet on the front door announced it to be Penrhiw (pronounced as pen-ru, it…