Sunday has its own paper, which must mean something. And even though I don't have much of a recognisable schedule or clear cut weekend, Sunday still feels like a different sort of day. The west end becomes a haven for yummy mummies and daddy cools, ladies who brunch, well dressed dog walkers, and, during a sweltering summer, the midday pint drinkers and barbeque gastronomes. On a particularily lovely summer Sunday, we did exactly that.
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| skirt and top- charity shop, bag- DIY, earrings- Topshop |
These photos, taken in Glasgow's Botanic Gardens, are a jarring contrast to what I'm currently seeing outside. There is something oddly nostalgic about looking back at summer once you start to hit the cold again. I'm sitting somewhere on the fence looking at these: on the one hand, I'm reminded of a really lovely time; on the other, it sends me into a deep melancholy about the lack of sandals in my immediate future.
There is a silver lining however. At least clashing prints aren't seasonal.
Title quote attributed to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
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