Tat London Journal

London never ceases to surprise me. Having lived in West London all my life, you'd think my curiosity might have eventually led me to Osterley House. But no. Somehow, I missed it.

Wales is a poetic place, offering everyone a home—whether in the height of summer or those weekends that crawl into autumn. As Dylan Thomas put it, “Wales is a land of sea and castles, of mountains and miners, and of small coal-black towns huddled under the wings of the hills.” The coal may be mostly gone, but the castles, the sea, the mountains, and the endless hills remain.

Recently, a few of my friends have made big changes. There’s something about change — it’s contagious. It makes the other party, in this case myself, look at one’s own life and feel a little rocky in its steadiness. As some of you may know, I recently had a baby, and by god, that commitment can make you feel cemented to the next forty years (god willing). So, daydreams, ideas, and a sense of movement become completely necessary. And, as with any bout of anxiety, we turn to pr