...and I was here.
Now, I was rather excited about my trip - triggered by a conversation with my mother on Wednesday, and encouraged by numerous recommendations, written reviews and the beautiful pictures in this book. As the bus entered Ham, the houses got bigger and bigger as did my eyes. And they kept growing as the road wound into Petersham. And all of them apparently private residences. Not carved into flats. Oh no. Single houses! With such dwellings it would be rude not to hold balls each week, if only to have an excuse to swirl and twirl around in a beautiful dress, and take tea on the sweeping lawns on a Saturday afternoon with cucumber sandwiches and slabs of cake to aid the hangover.
I digress. I followed the signs along the little pot-holed lane, past the little church and was finally at my long-awaited destination.
If I'm truthful, I was expecting a 'WOW' and got an 'oh'.
I'm not too sure what I was expecting. I thought it would be bigger. That there would be more of, well, everything. The staff seemed rather preoccupied and I felt as though I was trespassing. The displays were lovely. The beautiful shop, and it is indeed full of the most beautiful things, was obviously playing ball with Liberty on it's pricing. The shabby french chic made me smile - so very like one of the B&B's from our trip to Provence. I was hoping to grab a coffee, but the cafe was packed with a class and seemed rather imposing. To tell you the truth, I didn't find it the most enjoyable of trips. I will go back again with Mr M, perhaps when it's a little busier and full of life, and have another go. I didn't leave empty handed. I fell in love with this.
A pretty little gold lace primula.
And it looks very happy in this old terracotta pot.