Hidden Chelsea

My teeth rattle as the wheels rumble along the uneven paths, bums and backs swarm like bees hunting pollen.  I glimpse flowers, trees and grass between legs, a bit of stone path, rectangular shrubs, iron art work; like a jigsaw without the picture I am unable to piece the gardens together.  I stand from the wheelchair and see a tree surrounded by flowers but moving further is thwarted as others vie for my space. Mr H is anxious I will tumble and persuades me to sit back in my throne on wheels.

When Mr H manages to secure us a spot, I snap at eye level flowers and sculptures hanging from the sky. Macro photography is my passion so not being able to see the bigger picture matters less.  As we trundle along Mr H plants sweet kisses on my head as he describes the water features, buildings and sculptures he sees from up high.

Share my day in this pictorial video blog: (have the sound on)

Thick clotted cream oozing from warm scones lathered with lemon curd and strawberry jam devoured after pale finger sandwiches followed by more cake than Mr Kipling could imagine; finishes off our wonderful trip to London. A Christmas present cream tea in a five star hotel from our dear friends.