The day that Kate and I were to leave London was it. THE DAY. We had been looking forward to this day for our entire six-day stay in London.
We had walked past it . . . several times. We had waited. We had anticipated.
But the timing was never right.
Finally, we knew we had to do it. We were out of time.
And so, on that last day in London, just before checking out of our hotel, we stepped into the Buttercup Cake Shop. It was the shop of our dreams, literally, because we had been dreaming about it long before we left the States. We had found this shop online and, to our great delight, it was not far from our hotel--in the very neighborhood we were staying! What luck!
Isn't it just the cutest little shop you've ever seen?
We took a picture of the package because we just knew we'd never see anything that adorable back home.
After about 10 minutes time, all four of our cupcakes were gone. Devoured. But delighted over completely.
If you're ever in Kensington, you absolutely must stop by the Buttercup Cake Shop. You won't regret it.
They have a website, but I doubt they'd deliver to Chicago. Not that I've asked or anything.
And here's a fun travel story to go with our ultimate cupcake experience. The young man who waited on us in the shop had an American accent, so we asked him where he was from. He said Chicago--turns out he was a Northwestern student working in London on a six month student work visa.
So that was fun.
But sitting in the corner of the shop was a young couple who overheard our conversation--the only other people in the store. They started laughing when they heard that we were all from Chicago because they were from Chicago too! Oak Park, I think they said.
So for one small moment in one small cupcake shop in one small neighborhood of London, five people from Chicago came together.
It was surreal.