When I was growing up, one of my favourite books on my Nan’s bookshelf, and coincidentally films to watch- was a hard copy of The Secret Garden. The mystery, adventure and beauty of it had 5 year old me at hello, and at the time- I’d probably regard Mary Lennox as a bit of a style icon (no one works a boater like Lennox), and to be honest that really hasn’t changed…
…Minus the straw hat and over sized tea dress (but complete with an urge to explore), a couple of weeks ago I found myself in one of the most charming beauty spots in Oxford, which transported me straight back to my mini self, only with Joe at my side and an entry receipt for the Botanical Gardens in hand. The whole garden was flourished with blooms, and even in early September made for the most colourful space to float around in aimlessly. After traipsing through overgrown arches and strolling alongside the river, wishing we’d gone punting- we’d passed an afternoon by without even realising it- which, sometimes is the best way to spend one.
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