The city-country contradiction

I’m a city girl. I love the tall buildings, the museums, the restaurants, the shops. I love meeting up with a friend in a quirky café for a coffee and a good catch-up, and dressing up and going out with Tall Guy. I love that the gym is open from 6am and I could, if I wanted to, get groceries in the middle of the night (hey Sailor Girl, remember when we did that at uni?).

BUT, I also love the country. The fresh air, rambling through the fields, lambing season, and toasty fires on damp days.

You can’t have it both ways.

Can you?

On Sunday, Tall Guy and I stumbled across Spitalfields City Farm*, where our mutual love for city and country was reconciled.

That’s right, we went to a farm. In the middle of the city. In the middle of LONDON!

country or city?

It was quiet. The air was filled with scent of tulips and herbs. We watched the horses run in their corral against a backdrop of growing vegetables and the Gherkin. We looked on as some chickens try to escape - maybe scared by my feather earrings?

Chicken run

We saw a goat bite someone, and saw some miniature horses which I incorrectly first identified (from afar, without glasses), as giant wild pigs. I felt better about my mistake after Tall Guy saw some guinea pigs - “What is wrong with those rabbits?”

After an impromptu picnic lunch (bagels with smoked salmon for me and salted beef for Tall Guy) ,that we picked up just a stone’s throw away from a food market on Brick Lane, we whiled away the afternoon in a little park. Once satisfied with our fill of “country” air (and bagels), we made our way home.

upon further inspection, that is NOT a pig

And on the way home? We went shopping.

*The farm now runs an “eco-chic” market on Sundays, so you can shop for handmade gifts and homemade goodies, and even some gardening supplies.