I have been to London twice this week. No matter how many times I go though it still feels like an adventure.

Growing up in a selection of small towns and villages, cities in themselves have always held a fascination  for me – the huge buildings and shops, the hustle and bustle of so many different types of people, so many Actual Proper Things.

London though remains one of my favourite cities. Even just walking through a tube station or crossing the street there is a powerful sense of being part of something bigger – a strange feeling of being important yet at the same time being very tiny.

And everyone is so stylish! Smart black suits and black thick framed glasses jostle for space on the train alongside those men looking effortlessly stylish in jeans, shirts and tweed jackets – the ones who look like they are too wealthy and influential even to need to wear a suit. The click of heels echoes through the underground and smart ladies’ coats, belted around tiny waists, waft Chanel No. 5 at me on every corner.

In my ill-fitting jeans and waterproof mac I feel like I stand out a mile. (Because I do). I may as well open my map out full size on my lap and pop a sign around my neck. ‘I don’t come from here,’ it would say. ‘I am obviously not cool enough to live in London.’

I don’t care though, I revel in it. I stare (carefully of course on the tube) at all the grown up ladies with their glossy hair and lovely shoes and try to guess where everyone is going and has been.

Simple things please us country folk.