What else could one desire to listen to more on this charmed fire-fly dazzled evening … perhaps the song of the nightingale and the soft breath of one’s beloved?

It was in Oxleas Woods, South London, that, in happier times, we immersed ourselves in Shakespeare’s play, accompanied by sylvan elves and gossamer fairies, enacted in bluebell glades in the darkening umbrage of this beautiful part of the city I was born and brought up in.

The year’s turning point:

eternal love embracing

in nature’s magic