London is pretty close to perfect right now.
The air is cool, but the dahlias and chrysanthemums are blooming like there’s no tomorrow. The evenings are still long enough, but hot coffee is beginning to sound more enticing than cold. I went to the Open Air Theatre yesterday noon to see an adaptation of the first grown-up novel I ever truly loved (To Kill A Mockingbird) and sat snuggled in a blanket scarf watching pigeons swoop and dragonflies dive beneath the stormy sky. The tourists are leaving, en masse – exactly as they came. The city feels paused, empty somehow. Perfectly on the cusp. And I’m beginning to see why folks love London.