🌸LDRxLDN: springtime stroll in blooming London 🌸

If I had to choose my favourite season in London, I'd say springtime is when the city is at its prettiest. Parks erupt with colourful bursts of daffodil, crocuses and cherry and apple blossom. Rare days of sunshine relegate winter coats to the abyss of the closets where they belong (for a couple of days, then the cold and grey are back). The anticipation of summer permeates the air... even though we know London will soon turn into a sweltering hell-hole of boiling Tube rides and swarming tourists determined to get that one picture of Big Ben to rule them all. Spring, please don't go.

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I headed to London for a short trip (3 days in Oman, 3 days in London, I hope this rushed travel thing is not becoming the new trend - not sure I like this grown-up lark!). This meant I had to keep it focused, and that is precisely what I did. It was all about food and flowers.

And about living in the moment. I'd made a pact with myself that I would focus on the moment without letting guilt or regret of the past or fear of the future colour the present.

Not the most original combination, I admit. But I did my best to do justice to them.

I think when you've spent a bit of time in London, you start viewing typical tourist areas such as Oxford Street, Regent street and anything in between with a smidge of disdain. All that shopping, all those crowds, all those tourist traps... no thanks.

Yet, that is precisely where I spent most of my weekend. Here's what I would qualify as a perfect day.

Morning

Get up insanely early and go on a sunrise date because, chéri, sunsets are kinda cliché. My favourite spot for sunrise is Duck and Waffle; but because I wanted to try something new, we headed towards... Sky Garden in 20 Fenchurch Street, the walkie-talkie shaped building. Some of you might remember it as the building that fried a Jaguar. I'll remember it as the place where I froze my bum off because the security had forgotten to open the door to the building. Thankfully, the Sky Garden, and the breakfast at Darwin Brasserie, made up for it.

Hundreds of plants from various exotic origins grow helter-skelter over the multi-storied garden. Sunlight peeks in from the glass windows, and the occasional hiss of the humidifying machines disrupts the gentle hum of hungry (or curious) patrons lounging in the spacious area of Fenchurch Bar, or making their way up, as we did, to the Darwin Brasserie.

We had a view over the Thames, the Tower of London and Tower Bridge, set right in the heart of City (the financial heart of London, for non-Londoners like me who assume that the "City" is the actual city of London rather than its throbbing capitalist enclave...)..

In the misty distance, we could spy the City's twin sister, Canary Wharf.

But when food came, we forgot the cold and the view instantly.

Wanting to be healthy, we started with smoothies and coffee.

Pretentious. A refreshing broccoli-based vitamin-C bomb for me, an elegant berry and honey one for him. Let me add at this point that the smoothies were already filling.

But because we felt so sure of ourselves, we also ordered an indecent amount of food.

Thick pancakes coated in chocolate and berries. Quinoa and coconut porridge. Eggs Benedict.

I don't normally go for porridge options as they feel too 'ordinary' and not really value for money (am I the only one who thinks this way?) but this one was fragrant and absolutely worth it. I've tried recreating it at home, but have yet to nail it.

As for the pancakes, they were spot on. Surely a solid foundation for a successful LDR.

Kris swears that the eggs were the best he's ever had: done to perfection, with spinach that wasn't soggy or bitter but melting into the brioche bread.

We died and couldn't decide if we were on our way to food heaven or gluttony hell.

Day time.

If you're doing this on a Sunday, there is no better place to walk off those calories than Columbia Road Flower Market. It is an assault on the senses.

Unless you're going early in the morning or in the afternoon (around closing time), you will find yourself in a dense crowd that moves centimetre by centimetre.

Cheery (and the occasional rude) vendors shout out the cheap prices for their orchids, roses, cacti.

As you progress along the market each stall wafts the smell of roses or lavender or earth and soil or hipster excitement about succulents.

Pictures are, of course, a must.

You finally emerge out of the market, dazed by the battering you've just taken. And you're greeted by cheery bands playing and a party-like atmosphere, complete with hole-in-the-wall coffee places and the like. I love it.

Afternoon.

Then be unashamedly touristy and head to the heart of London. Not the corporate one. Just the hellish touristy one. The Piccadilly area. If you're taking the Central Line and getting off at Oxford Street, stop for a moment at Liberty London.

Stop and smell the roses.

Buckets and buckets of them, next to peonies and lilies and hortensias.

Let the cheerfulness and beauty of it lift your spirits, before you continue your walk down towards the Royal Academy of Arts and immerse yourself into the latest exhibition. In my case, it was the one on the art of the Russian Revolution. At times lulling you into a false sense of comfort through familiar artists like Kandinsky, at others plunging you into the claustrophobic dogma of propaganda, the exhibition is eerily reminiscent of the relentless narratives of our own modern times. This exhibition is now over, but if you're in London now, you can catch this exhibition at the newly opened Design Museum in High Street Kensington.

When the red feels too oppressive, leave.

Cross over to soothe your agitated soul with tea in Fortnum and Mason, that quintessence of overpriced British picnic and tea traditions. As it is most likely going to be crowded, say hello to Paddington Bear, look at the rows of colourful jams and honey, and try not to force your partner to buy more flowers than you can carry.

Evening

When it's time for dinner, go all out.

I was whisked on a date to a place that had been firmly on my bucket list. Momo's. A stylish Moroccan restaurant in Mayfair, serving gorgeous food. Make sure you forget your camera so that you can focus on said gorgeous food and gorgeous person accompanying you. Such as the perfectly cooked lentil harira soup and the zaalouk salad - smokey aubergine mash.

Taken with an illicit phone camera (the bf was relieved I didn't have my camera... but I did whip out my phone for some disastrously low quality shots).

And washed down with the most beautiful, deep red, sultry Syrah wine from Morocco.

Stuff yourself silly with tagine and cakes infused with orange blossom and pistachio and honey.

Drink more wine, before stepping out into the fresh twinkling night. Fall in love all over again.

So here is my idea of a perfect day. I wish I could say this is exactly what happened, but the truth is... I did all of this in reverse order (dinner on the day I landed, then Piccadilly strolling the next day, and finally breakfast on the Sunday just before leaving London... for the South Down National Park!) Still amazing, though.