London: All in the Cold, Grey-Clouded Weather

Wimbledon Park contains a large field, a lake bristling with geese, a couple of tennis courts, and a sizeable percentage of the world's sausage dogs. This I discovered when Hayley took me walking there on Saturday morning. When I was out for a jog the next day, I felt like I'd stumbled upon a Hairy Maclary casting call, only everyone was trying for Schnitzel Von Krumm. 

Wimbledon is a really beautiful area. Oh, to be stupidly rich. The houses are all Tudor-style and imposing, and the village is bursting with designer gear and toasty cafes. Hayley and I ducked into one of these, where I selected a Chelsea bun for lunch. You only live once, hey.

That night, Hayley and her housemates took me back to Wimbledon with an unmatchable pub offer in mind: £5 bottles of wine. I couldn't help feeling that there had to be a classier option. Time for jäger bombs! High five to Hayley, to me, and to happy hour.

Sunday was a bit more refined. Around 2pm-ish, I met up with Michael and his friend Hollie outside Camden Market, and we walked along Chalk Farm Road to Primrose Hill. It wasn't the warmest of days, so there wasn't much of a crowd at the top; though the guy serenading his girlfriend on a guitar deserves special mention. 

Our view of the London skyline was crystal clear. We ate some brownie, took some photos, and then stumble-ran down the hill like the worst sort of giddy tourists. (Why? Because Hollie and I refused to roll.) We ran somewhat in the direction of The Regent's Park. None of us had been before, and I insisted that we rectify this immediately. Upon entering the park, we saw wild boar to our right and a canal to our left. Michael posed on statues and we all took tea in Queen Mary's Gardens. Lovely. We parted on Oxford Street, where I windowshopped my way through Uniqlo: mmm Orla Kiely patterns. My satchel bag needs companions, yes indeed. 

Monday was, by contrast, a solemn day of learning. Cara met me for much-anticipated catch up times at Shake Shack in Covent Garden. Afterwards, we joined Michael for a law-nerd pilgrimage to the Supreme Court in Parliament Square. A kind policeman pointed the way. (Their hats make them look like toy police rather than the real thing. I blame Fireman Sam.)

Once inside the Supreme Court, we were encouraged to pose for photos in the judges' seats. The High Court never lets you do such things! They really seem to embrace informality - no robes or wigs in sight. Some cheeky person had actually left a little post-it note message for the judges: 'Lower uni fees'. Separation of powers means nothing to some people, tsk. 

Obviously, we were dying to see some actual Supreme Court action. Fraudulent trustees were at the heart of the matter in Court 1. All became quite interesting when a barrister's attempts at legislative interpretation were systematically annihilated by an acerbic set of LJs. Talk about courtroom drama!

Michael and I then headed for the Houses of Parliament across the road. Although we weren't able to take a full tour, we got to see the House of Commons. The Home Secretary was busy being questioned over the escape of two suspected terrorists, the latest of whom had simply popped on a burqa and jumped in a cab. The House's overwhelming conclusion: time to ban the burqa. Hurray, democracy. It was all very rationally argued. Clearly what's wanted are more severe sanctions against terrorist suspects. Heave ho. 

Next, we managed to sneak in for a peek at the House of Lords. I was going to say 'Senate' for a minute, whoops. The difference between the two Houses can be summed up in the words 'red velvet', 'gold' and 'boring'. Apparently the HoL has a mouse problem: more boring. The Australian parliament battles giant moths daily. (Thank you, the London Evening Standard!)

Michael and I rounded the day off with a bit of a crap Jack the Ripper walking tour. There wasn't all that much walking, the places we stopped at were largely irrelevant, and the 'highlights' were comprised of a series of gratuitous morgue shots, which made the victims' shared profession seem rather less exploitative by comparison. We shall stick to historical and literary pub crawls in future!

On Tuesday, I met Fiona in Sloane Square - first time we'd properly caught up since studying at KCL together back in the day. This meant that we were marginally less infuriated to discover that the Saatchi Gallery was unexpectedly closed, as we had more time to lunch and chat. Thankfully, we still found plenty of time to dart over to Harrods for a look at its pet section. I'm talking luxury dog grooming. I'm talking four poster cat beds. I'm talking fur-lined winter dog coats that cost more than my entire travel wardrobe. (V, you'd go mad for it.)

I then met Michael at the Kensington Odeon cinema for Ender's Game, which was great. Actually really good! Adapted well! Harrison Ford good! Child actors good! Expectations exceeded!! 

And then came a massive highlight on the Fiona Travel Calendar: Guy Fawkes Night. Remember, remember the fifth of November! Michael, Hayley, Léonore and I joined a giant queue to get into Wimbledon Park for a bonfire and fireworks, and it was everything I wanted. 

May my boots remain plastered in mud, and my memories preserved. It was a great night out, and I'm sure the park will recover in approximately eleven months' time, at which point they'll be able to stop fishing sausage dogs from the epic swamp we left behind.