Primrose Hill Market, London.

I was recently introduced to a friend of a friend who went backpacking around South East Asia last year. When I spoke to her, I felt a familiar feeling of shame creeping into me, the same one that always appeared whenever I spoke to travellers like her.

She, after a few weeks in my side of the world, has visited more places than I have the twenty six years I was living in the region.

Usually, a few minutes into the conversation, the name Cambodia would come up and I would have to reluctantly admit that I haven’t stepped on that country’s soil even once.

“I have been to Myanmar though,” I normally added in a bid to present myself as a more appreciative South East Asian.

I attribute this shameful phenomenon to what I call proximity ungratefulness. When a place is so close to where you live, you will naturally find it less exciting and will not go out of your way to visit.

I am thus careful of not letting the same thing happen to me here in London. I try to appreciate things around me, even stuff that is within walking distance from my flat.

One of my most recent finds was the Primrose Hill Market.

Primrose Hill is world-famous, and I have been there countless times. It has a beautiful unobstructed view of London and is equally charming during the day and night.


But today I’m not here to talk about the Hill. I’m here for something that happens at the foot of the hill every Saturday, unbeknownst to many: the Primrose Hill Market.

Continue reading “Primrose Hill Market, London.”

A close shave.

Last weekend was meant to be productive. I had it all planned out so well. In order to get enough rest post Chinese New Year, I cleared out the weekend for myself, and my laptop. It was supposed to happen this way: I would have come home on Friday, cooked a healthy dinner for myself, watched a few episodes of ‘A Game of Thrones’, slept for good eight hours, exercised the next morning, written a blog post, researched about my upcoming trips, watched a few more episodes of ‘A Game of Thrones’, uploaded Myanmar pictures on Facebook and so on. Basically a very productive weekend in terms of resting, researching and writing.

But I got home on Friday evening and got as far as cooking my dinner before my plan was shattered into pieces. I tried to switch my computer on and this appeared.

The blue screen of terror.
The blue screen of terror.

I like blue in general, but when it appeared on my computer screen and was just stuck there, it was the colour of a nightmare.

And that basically rendered my whole weekend plan useless.

Continue reading “A close shave.”