As I sit here typing today’s blog entry, I’ve just cleared out a bunch of notes that I was so laboriously studying over and over again, just 2 months ago. I’ve started spring cleaning the apartment, clearing out things I no longer need, like that beautiful knee-length, blue-grey jersey dress that is just slightly over a year old but I can’t wear anymore because the collar is over-pulled. Now that I think about it, I should have kept it to convert into a skirt, like what I did to convert my corduroy pants into shorts eons ago. But today’s entry is not about regrettable should haves. Instead, it is about my love for a city, one that is called London.
Before further ado, let me just share with you the daily Insta Stories logs that I saved to remember our trip by. I was sick for the first half of our stay, losing my voice and everything (all we managed to do on Day 3 was some slight shopping along Regent Street, Carnaby Street and a quick trip to Liberty). Forget about working out while we were on vacation – all that activewear turned out to be deadweight.
{Open this blog entry in your phone’s web browser if the videos are not showing up.}