Leicester, again.

Leceister, three hours north of London, and where my mother originates from, had the best street art I discovered on my travels.

I particularly enjoyed the juxtapositional elements of serene parkland and meadow, fragments of industrial past, and graffiti... Life is complicated.

Again, I've forgotten the name of this path - it has a name. But it runs along an old canal and disused railway from Blaby (the next biggest village outside of Leicester) to central Leicester (the town).

It was a pretty warm day by English standards and I was desperate for a beer. So I bought a bottle of Stella while I was in town and realised on my walk back that I didn't have a bottle opener. I tried hacking the top off at the steel bridge (where I took a shot of the canal through the cobweb) and tried in vain.

I carried that bottle of Stella around for a month afterwards. I drank it on my last night in London.