Saturday, 17 December 2011

Kenwood House

London has been a blur of cold air, the metro, red buses and the muddy waters of The River Thames. It is beautiful, but for the last few days, I just kept feeling like something was missing. There was a disconnect somewhere.

Therefore today, I tried to find the England that I have always imagined as a child. I grew up reading Austen and the Bronte sisters; the England in my head has always been a mass of green, dotted with stately estates and acres of parks.

The Kenwood House. I even managed to see an incredible self-potrait of Rembrandt.








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