Nicola Macfarland, a member, has written (below) about her regular walk round both Parks on a windy January day. She has found a lot to look out for on her impressive circuit. Many thanks to her.

The number 23 bus set me down at Palace Gate and as I entered Kensington Gardens an enticing smell of bacon bap wafted over. However, breakfast not long ago I resolutely walk past. The sun is slanting bravely through the trees from a mottled sky, a mixture of blue with menacing dark clouds racing around, no doubt warnings from Storm Malik in the north. Victoria, on her throne up the hill by the palace, looks imperious and commanding, her statue starkly white against the glowering Winter sky.

A large group of roller skiers are assembled waiting for the instruction to start. It’s a colourful scene, bright jackets and elegant roller blades with edges of yellow hazard streaks. The skiers are of all ages even some “of a certain age” which surprises me as it looks such an exhausting sport and here without the snow to make the passage easier. They are off, some with sticks to help and some moving like skaters.

I reach the Round Pond, the ducks bobbing up and down on the choppy waves, and on the far side of the water a flock of white swans appear to be having a meeting. I take the path towards Temple Gate; the weather is getting better all the time. A pitch for rugby is laid out, white cones marking the boundaries. I watch one of only three small boys score a try; a second boy bringing him down but not before the ball has met the touchline. “Well done, Otto” shouts the coach, blowing his whistle loudly.

Now the low sun is almost blinding me, I can only just see the gold of Albert’s memorial statue if I shade my eyes with my hand. I leave Kensington Gardens at Temple Gate where I stop to take a photograph of an old oak tree with a massive trunk distorted into a monster shape.

I cross the road into Hyde Park, dodging cyclists and horse riders and head down to the Serpentine. Diana’s fountain tumbles through its narrow canals, even forming white horses, their froth illuminated in the sun.

The bullrushes by the water wave majestically in the wind. No-one is swimming and the blue row boats on the far side are tied up firmly; the wind sweeping the water in waves towards the Serpentine café. I walk, on passing families out for a stroll and children looking at the ducks and geese. I reach the far end and just before the café I see my first snowdrops, a large clump nodding their little white heads.

I cross the track avoiding stray roller skiers and take the path towards Bayswater passing the cordoned off area where Winter Wonderland has wreaked havoc with the grass. I stride on, sometimes almost brought to a standstill by the ever-increasing wind. Now I can move more easily as I am going downhill, and the wind is behind me. The sun is shining through the trees. Sometimes I think the trees look better without their leaves, but then when I see them in all their glory in the Summer, they are even more beautiful. Old brown leaves from last year hurtle along the ground in a bemused and chaotic manner.

I leave Hyde Park and crossing the road, enter back into Kensington Gardens. I am now approaching the Italian Fountains and I am pleasantly surprised to spot a few early daffodils, splashes of yellow in the Winter flower bed, making me think Spring is round the corner, but it’s still only January. I shall have a coffee here; this café is my favourite; its always bathed in sun and I sit on a bench sipping my cappuccino and look at the view, the fountains seem ethereal as the spray catches the sun.

I take the path towards the palace; I can see the spire of St Mary Abbots silhouetted in the far distance. On my left a class of aerobics is under way. A few yards further on and I strike off to my left; I must go and visit my favourite statue Physical Energy by George Frederick Watts.

If I look down towards the Long Water and on the north side, I can see the The Arch, the imposing sculpture by Henry Moore. It stands in a wonderful position, equally stunning from both sides. I continue, now walking towards the Palace, several games of football with little goal nets and teams of children playing enthusiastically, parents standing watching and encouraging. I notice quite a few trees cut down, lying on their sides and wonder what happens to the wood. Some are left standing like totem poles and I think of my friend, Giles, who earned a living by doing the most intricate carvings on similar trees making them works of art.