When looking up all you can see is a blue sky, though, heavy rain clouds that resemble marshmallows float in around lunch time. By evening, the bright, blue sky is gone, and a mist falls to your cheeks. Visitors expect the Isles to be drenched by constant heavy water fall, but typically it is just a gloomy overcast. The lack of sun turns the originally cool air into a crisp breeze. Even in June the weather will require a sweater, or rather a jumper.
     

From the far distance, the hooting of horns and the occasional crying of sirens will fill your ears. Around you, people are laughing into the air. The quiet chatter of birds floats around you. Your hands flipping through the pages of a book and the sipping of your tea is music to your ears. For a slightly misty evening, the park is busy.

The smell of fresh flowers and wet grass is more potent than the car fumes that circulate through the city. The humidity in the air creates its own thick smell. The scent of curry from the person next you enters your senses, overpowering the soft aroma of your tea. His box indicates it’s from The Curry Manjill just a few blocks away. Your mouth waters at the thought of the spicy dish.
     

The page you hold in your left hand is smooth. In your right one, the heat from the paper cup makes up for the cool temperature around you. Your sneaker clad feet rest upon the damp grass, with the green plant sticking to the sole. The soft fabric of the throw blanket you brought from your flat gives you a comfortable spot upon the hard, itchy ground.
     

Before your eyes, the skyline is lit by the city lights. Your sight is filled with many of the landmarks found in a travel guide. The slow spin of the Eye is barely noticeable.  The red and white lights that illuminate from the round BT Tower gets you to question the time. The Centre Point looks as if it’s made of gold. The lights scattered around the hill gives the park a sense of calmness. Tourists gape at the amazing view they’re getting of London Towne, while the city’s inhabitants rest on the lively grass, their eyes closed in contentment. This is Primrose Hill. It’s a place in Regent’s Park where you forget about the stresses of life, while being in the middle of everything.