To look life in the face

When one is tired of London, one is tired of life.

I embark on a journey to the heart of V. Woolf's childhood tomorrow. It is only a short walk from the family house at No. 22 Hyde Park Gate to Kensington Gardens. How utterly unaware I have been that Kensington was once the nesting area for "the aristocracy of intellect". It must inspire me in some way.