Oh, the Golden Hour, how bloody glorious is it? I wish I could shoot in that light all the time, it makes everything brilliant, even poorly framed pictures.
Dave was on late shift last week and I had the brilliant idea (if I do say myself) of having a picnic dinner in Trent Park one evening. We went to the same spot where we held Arthur’s birthday (I STILL need to write about that) and it’s a lovely place. The grass doesn’t get cut here, apart from a few paths, so you can sit in gorgeous meadow surrounded by buttercups. As it’s evening, there’s hardly anyone around so we get to blow bubbles, run around and picnic in quiet too. Our own private park (with the exception of one dog who bounded up to us and then ate our quiche and Arthur’s cheese from his hand *shakes fist at its owner*)