Some months flew by; others crawled. (And now? The UK is virtually grinding to a halt and we’re down to our last six loo rolls. Not words I ever thought I’d type, it must be said.) I’ve spent some lovely evenings with work friends, including a delicious (and very reasonably priced) meal at Cookhouse Joe. I followed that particular meal up with a detour to Carnaby Street: their Christmas lights installation, a collaboration with Project Zero, was something else. Closer to home, Laurence and I (finally) went for food at The Blue Ball in Grantchester, saw the Fitzwilliam Museum’s Feast and Fast exhibition, and returned to the ADC Theatre for Footlights Spring Revue 2020: Crossed Wires.
When I think of Cornwall, I think of rugged cliffs, rocky inlets and coves, cream teas and crumbly fudge.
Often overlooked in favour of Northern Italy’s other big hitters (Florence, Milan and Venice, I’m looking at you), Bologna is an underrated gem which, dare I say it, I much preferred to its northerly neighbour, Florence.
Florence is synonymous with the Renaissance, and I’d wager most visitors to Florence venture to at least one of its museums to catch a glimpse of Botticelli’s Birth of Venus or Michelangelo’s David. Not us.
Once upon a time, Ostia was a thriving port city with over fifty thousand inhabitants and a buzzing social scene (a theatre, plus public baths and taverns aplenty). Over time, attention shifted to Portus – a harbour on the north of the River Tiber – and Civitavecchia – a city sixty-odd kilometres to the north-west of Rome. Trade in Ostia slowed, and the city fell into decline.
Rome took me by surprise, in a good way. I expected it to be busy – and it was, but not excessively so (travelling in shoulder season certainly helped). I expected it to be rainy, because the weather forecast looked dire for the few days we’d be there – but it was balmy. I expected it to expensive – and while I’m sure it can be, I found it wasn’t all that difficult to visit on the cheap.
2019 sped by, and was gone in the blink of an eye. (I’m sure the older I get, the faster time goes.) Chers lecteurs, thank you for taking time out of your day to tune in to the various adventures – on home soil and abroad – I’ve chronicled this past year on La Grenouille Anglaise. Without further ado, here are some of 2019’s most memorable moments.
I’ve only read a handful of books over the past three months; fatigue from my (too) long commute set in and had me reaching for the crossword or a copy of Time Out instead of a book, and a string of busy weekends left me with few opportunities to re-stock at the local library. That said, those I did find time to read were well worth the brainpower – and the three titles below are my top picks. If you’ve got any recommendations, I’d love to hear them in the comments. Merry Christmas one and all, and until next year!
East Anglia is home to some glorious stretches of sand and shingle. From Hunstanton’s pinky-red cliffs and Blakeney Point’s grey seal colony (if you want to see oodles of adorable seal pups, now’s the time to go) to Cromer’s sandy shores and the colourful beach huts of Southwold, there’s a beach for everyone and every season.
[veuillez défiler vers le bas pour la version française] Christmas, to quote Love Actually’s Billy Mack, is all around. Bury St. Edmunds’ Christmas Fayre kicked the festive season off for me, and has been swiftly followed by a thoroughly enjoyable Crafternoon (making hand-stitched Christmas cards and origami stars) in aid of Mind, an evening of Christmassy activities to wrap up Brownies for the year, multiple mince pies and (for Laurence, at least) a steaming cup of mulled wine at the Mill Road Winter Fair.