March 2025: Springtime sunshine and a countryside escape

I feel as if I have been emerging from a period of hibernation, with the arrival of some long-overdue British sunshine gently coaxing me out from under my duvet covers and back into the resplendent streets and sunny parks around central London. 

Following the presence of the sun on more than three consecutive days, one friend sent me a WhatsApp saying, “I feel like I’m defrosting!”, which I thought captured the mood perfectly.

Wintering

Back in November, after seeing it recommended as a suggestion on how to stop the dark months from turning you into a miserable gremlin, I read the non-fiction book ‘Wintering’ by Katherine May. While it was not as revelatory as the social media thread had made it out to be (spoiler alert: I was still a miserable winter gremlin until approximately two weeks ago), I was struck by her reflection on how times of ‘wintering’ can be times where ‘the tight strings of friendship become slackened for a little while’.

As I have caught up with friends over steaming bowls of ramen and over-priced pots of herbal tea (pricey artisanal coffee can be justified, mint leaves floating in tepid water is simply grievous), I’ve found myself returning to May’s point. In the months where I hadn’t been able to go out and socialise, where I had been forced to politely decline every invitation to drinks and dinners, postponed trips and travel plans, and simply hadn’t the energy to keep on top of long-distance friendships, I think I’d felt some guilt or fear of friendships slipping away.

Spending time with friends then after some months has therefore been deeply wonderful; it is heartwarming to feel able to pick up where you left off, to share stories of the joys, and too absolute horrors, which you have lived through in the intervening months, and to discover new spots in London which have been quietly awaiting your return to the brunch scene. I think my discovery during this time (aside from the kimchi and cheese toastie combination – an elite Lenten Friday lunch), would be that it is absolutely fine to disappear for a little while, or a long while, if you so need.

In truth, you likely won’t have missed anything too dramatic in the intervening time, and if you have, it will hurt for a little while, and then the hurt will likely float away. And who knew, all the routine frustrations (see the TfL fare increase) and flaws of your social life will still exist when you return! I attended a social event recently (one of a semi-regular event series of which I’d last made it to in June 2024), and was horrified to find that everyone was still as generally socially awkward and incapable of making fun conversation as before. I mean, what have they been doing!

A country escape

I had unsurprisingly been very much looking forward to my first trip out of London in a long while, which was a delightful quintessential weekend away featuring a family wedding, taking wrong turns on country lanes, a National Trust property, and some full English breakfasts. Such is the extent of my London family’s British geography that I’m not sure that any of us could tell you exactly where we went, but I do know that our first stop on the afternoon before the wedding was at the Emma Bridgewater pottery in Stoke-on-Trent.

I cannot quite articulate how disorienting this was (I should add that I was also very drowsy as a result of my motion-sickness meds), but I felt like I was walking around in a British middle-class ceramic fever dream. Upon arrival we made a beeline for the tearoom, where I drank a peppermint tea out of a floral Emma Bridgewater mug. This did not however seem to soothe my sense of disorientation, having spent the vast majority of the past few months drinking peppermint tea out of a floral Emma Bridgewater mug. I think my brain and body were confused as to why I was spending my first new adventure doing a deeply stay-at-home activity. The cakes were however delicious and we enjoyed pottering around (if you’ll excuse the pun), and I feel like I’ve taken one for the team in making a pilgrimage to the source of delightful British mugs.

We also visited the Wedgwood Estate which featured – you guessed it – more pottery and more disorientation (we went early on a Saturday morning and it was near-deserted), and a gift shop so expensive that no damage was done. (I cannot however say the same for the Emma Bridgewater one).

The wedding was also lovely. There’s nothing I love quite as much as when you think the meal is over and then you hear whispers of a cheeseboard. Except perhaps seeing someone you have known and loved all your life marry someone they love.

Cake in the Emma Bridgewater tearoom, in case you couldn’t tell.

Fooling around

Thinking about the impending arrival of 1 April has brought back two memories of being genuinely fooled on past April Fools’ Day's. Once when I was staying over at my late Gran’s house she called me upstairs with a worried voice to come into her bathroom to look at what had fallen into the toilet bowl. As I peered over, terrified as to what hairy creature might be lurking, she grabbed me suddenly shouting gleefully “April Fool’s!” Fooled!

And a few years ago when I was on my Erasmus year in Vienna I was returning to my student home from HOFER, laden with groceries I’d haphazardly balanced into my rucksack (the speed of continental supermarket cashiers is frankly alarming). As I fumbled to find my keys on the doorstep, a man walked past me shouting “Entschuldigung! Entschuldigung! Sie haben ein Loch in Ihrer Tasche!” (“Excuse me! Excuse me! You have a hole in your bag!”). As I turned, half-expecting to see my shopping strewn across the pavement, he shouted “Erster April!” (“April Fools’!”) and walked off chuckling. Fooled again!

Once I’d overcome my initial annoyance and finally found my house keys, I remembered feeling particularly pleased with myself. They say that dreaming in a foreign language is a sign of fluency, but there I was, having been pranked in a foreign language. The dizzying heights of the exchange student life.

Here's to hoping for no spiders or hole-ridden bags on Tuesday.