Bob and Goya's portraits

Early business calls and general work and business this morning. In the afternoon off to see Bob in London. We'd arranged to meet outside the Swiss Centre, which is long-closed and replaced with the mindless M&M World. I arrived early and watched the greeters singing along to the old pop music blaring out of their speakers with a ghastly compulsory corporate cheer. What a vile way to earn a living.

Bob loomed of the flat grey day at me and it was jolly good to see him. We found a strange little pub and had a couple of sharpening beers and a packet of peanuts and pork scratchings before surging off to see the Goya The Portraits exhibition at the National Gallery. I wasn't incredibly excited by this prospect, but it was fascinating. The amazing depth and differences of character he was able to bring out was astonishing. Everything from pompous punchable windbags, fiery independent noblewomen and thuggish royalty. Interestingly his best friends and his much loved son were painted with the most unflattering eye. Well worth seeing.

Bob and I left, and Trafalgar square had become greasy with rain and it was quite a sight to see the newish moon over the square. Very London. We sauntered about through Covent Garden for a while before settling on the idea of another pint. We went to The Lyceum pub at the end of the Strand and ended up having a pretty decent plate of pub grub upstairs, and some nice Samuel Smith lager at a very reasonable price. Lots of catching up with Bob to be done of course. As ever it was top to see him, looking well and smart in a sharp suit and fresh from the barbers.

We left pretty early though, as I was yawing my head off and hearing the call of the seagull. Fond farewells at Embankment station, and made it home by 10:30 which was good as I had to be up before the crows next day.

Below a trailer for the Goya show; Trafalgar Square; and Bob.





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