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    Some of the trees of Hampstead Heath on a cold Easter morning.
What to do on a bitterly cold Easter Saturday in London. Judging by the  the anaesthetised  hoards carrying shopping bags at Oxford Circus the clamour of consumerism is alive and twitching. I don’t know Hampstead Heath very well, but well enough to appreciate it as one of the hundreds of features that makes London such a uniquely enriching experience. I set off with the deliberate intention of losing myself, undeterred by a replacement bus service from Camden, and the occasional flutter of snow dust. The trees amazed me - centuries old monsters, twisted beautiful, moss matted, tall, crooked or prostrate, sad yet defiant.