Quiet week last week, or maybe my memory’s gone. I see to recall attending a private view at the Theatre Royal for Martin Laurance and a couple of other artists (ML impressive as always), but the only person there I knew apart from Martin was Hilary Mellon. Dot was working hard at home: she has quite a lot on at the moment.
We were due to spend the weekend with the Coomes in London, but David was taken ill on the Thursday night with a bad bout of nocturnal epilepsy, which left him in a lot of pain. So instead we arranged to go down on the train for Saturday only and meet Kristine at Liverpool Street. The train was full and we eventually found ourselves sitting next to a very pleasant and interesting couple: the husband was an aerial photographer, and we learnt some intriguing things about CGI and created landscapes. He also showed us some pictures he’d taken from a helicopter of the 800,000 poppies at the Tower of London.
After meeting Kristine we took a tube to Victoria and eventually found a pub-restaurant she’d booked called The Phoenix, which was terrific, and took us although we were 15 minutes late. The food was first-class. We all had sea bass, and Dot and I shared some chips. Afterwards we tubed to Pimlico and walked to the Tate, arriving just before our allotted time of 3pm.
Not sure why galleries have to be so hot. After reaching the second room (of six) I had to go to the loo and take all my clothes off, but I did put my shirt back on again. Extensive show of late Turner paintings, and as I love Turner I could have stayed all day – but it was tiring, and we eventually repaired to the shop and then the cafe.
Kristine stayed on the tube while we changed for London Bridge, where we found it hard to find the river and ended up in the back streets of Bermondsey surrounded by massive construction works. But after inquiring of a construction guy we eventually hit the river by HMS Belfast, where we had a very expensive glass of wine (over £15 for two) on the upper deck of the cafe (not the ship). Still, no doubt we were paying for the view, which was superb.
Afterwards we proceeded to Tower Bridge and walked over it to the Tower of London and its poppies, which even in the dark of early evening were more than impressive. From there we intended to take the tube from Tower Hill to Liverpool Street, but the tube station was closed, and a notice informed us it was a short walk – which, compared to the West Highland Way, it certainly is. I am used to walking between Liverpool Street and London Bridge, but wasn’t at all sure of myself here, and we had to ask a couple of people, both of whom were extremely helpful.
London seems to be covered by construction work at the moment. However, we made it in time for the 8.30pm train, which again was packed, and we dozed most of the way home.
Our unexpected availability on the Sunday meant we could not only go to church, but also re-insert an abandoned meal with the Greens and Barbara Vidion at our house, during which the visiting trio majored on Burma, where the Greens had just been, and which Barbara was due to travel to. Nothing that was said would have enticed me to visit Burma, but this is no doubt a deficiency on my part.
However, the feeling is shared by Julia Higbee, as was revealed when we visited her and Allan for lunch yesterday at Newton Flotman. Dot drove; so I was able to indulge more than usual, and we had a lovely meal and conversation. Autumn is drawing on, but the weather is good at the moment: crisp and mainly dry, with plenty of sun.
I should mention that on Monday I obtained £300 in dollars as a gift for Nicholas from St Augustine’s congregation. Dot and I delivered it to him in the afternoon, and he was effusively grateful. He is already looking American. While on the theme of travel, Dot and I have just committed to a week in the South of France with Fred and Sue next May, travelling from Luton airport. Fred is making all the arrangements; so I am quietly confident.
