Boxing Day

I think the term “Boxing Day” is gaining notoriety in the States, though it’s certainly not a federal holiday. According to the Internets, the term “Boxing Day” doesn’t have a singular definitive origin, but according to my friends in London, it was historically the day that you boxed up your unwanted gifts to the poor. Which is a pretty good reason for a federal holiday, frankly.

This past Boxing Day, Tim and I joined his dad for a ramble through Hampstead Heath in north London. It wasn’t at all the manicured park I expected—more a sprawling, muddy lawn, with gravel paths and dozens of dogs happily racing through the mud and muck. (I should have worn my new patterned wellies but didn’t realize just how muddy it was going to be. I finally caught on near the end of my stay, after I ruined a pair of jeans by constantly dragging them through muddy paths).

After a good post-Christmas walk and a cup of tea, Tim and I headed toward Waterloo so I could take a few more pictures with my proper camera (as opposed to my point-and-shoot). We walked through the compound that houses the British Film Institute, the National Theatre, and other cultural buildings, which were decorated with small white lights hanging between the buildings. The moon was bright that night and not quite full. I loved the asymmetry of the moon and the broken string of lights.