Monday, 28 April 2014
It wasn't planned, but it was a weekend of bluebells, books and baking.
On a damp spring afternoon, in ancient English woodland carpeted with bluebells ... you wouldn't know you were in London except for the rumble of trains and planes overhead.
Apparently 4.5% of London is woodland and 1.7% is ancient woodland, all we have left of the wildwood.
No matter how many years you've lived here, London always throws up surprises ... and I can't tell you how surprised I was yesterday to discover a real, old-fashioned bluebell wood, hazy with English bluebells, only a 10 minute bus ride from home, hidden behind a street of boring suburban semis. Yesterday was an open day but for £20 a year you can borrow a key to get in whenever you like.
There were bachelor's buttons, wild garlic, campion, yellow archangel, forget-me-nots and I expect lots more but I'm not very good on plant names.
It was a lovely spur of the moment outing that reminded me of filling jamjars full of wilting bluebells when I was a child ... #middleaged crimes.