A day out with Carl and Bob
A special day today. Up early, and up to London. Trains all doomed with rail replacement services so Lorraine kindly gave me a lift to Three Bridges and from there I caught a train to London to see Bob and Carl. Met them in Leicester Square and we had a steadying coffee Then wandered around the corner to the national portrait gallery.
Good to go with Carl and Bob to a gallery again, for it one of their natural habitats. Had an enjoyable nose around there. Carl going about captioning some of the pictures, such as "Queen Victoria's first visit to her wounded soldiers" and pointing to the white faced man in his sickbed, and telling us he was thinking 'Why don't they all just fuck off'. From there off in a cab to Gabriel's wharf, where we consumed some Pieminster pies, and mash. Sloped into Doggets Bar by Blackfriars Bridge for a single pint, and then walked along the busy embankment to Tate Modern.
Hugely enjoyable in there. Up to the fourth floor to look at one of their collection displays called 'Process and Energy' which Bob and I enjoyed raging at certain pieces in the collection such as Richard Serra's Trip Hammer. Some interesting work there of course, but there is a certain fogeyish pleasure to be had from snap judgements. Found myself soothed and entranced by some works, and of course lovingly lingered over the Ernst and Klee pictures they have. Carl and Bob have certain styles in art galleries and they had not lost their touch. Bob is generally methodical, but also pauses to seethe and wave his arms at things he disapproves of and will surge across the please do not cross lines around pieces. In contrast Carl moves in a kind of Brownian motion, one minute he is ahead of you and the next will crop up somewhere behind you deeply involved and prone to suddenly start talking about the The Blue Rider Group or Der Stijl.
After a few hours of this kind of thing, we went off to find alcohol. Urged into Borough Market now underneath the Shard and found a few places in which to drink beer and chat. Beer was drunk and enormous amounts of chat was had. It must be at least ten years since Carl, Bob and myself have all been in the same place at the same time, but the threads of it all were picked up as if we'd all met last week.
Ended up with a curry and rather a good one (if insolently served), nearby and then an absolutely bloody final drink and a play of a general knowledge pub quiz machine before the call of the seagull grew strong in me, and I left top hat askew, and mindful of the pesky rail replacement bus service. Arrived home some time after midnight. Lorraine had been out babysitting and got home minutes after. A great day.
Below Bob, Carl and I horsing about outside Tate Modern with Carl suddenly pretending to be very short; Bob and Carl coincide momentarily, other snaps of the notoriously uncamera-shy Carl.
Good to go with Carl and Bob to a gallery again, for it one of their natural habitats. Had an enjoyable nose around there. Carl going about captioning some of the pictures, such as "Queen Victoria's first visit to her wounded soldiers" and pointing to the white faced man in his sickbed, and telling us he was thinking 'Why don't they all just fuck off'. From there off in a cab to Gabriel's wharf, where we consumed some Pieminster pies, and mash. Sloped into Doggets Bar by Blackfriars Bridge for a single pint, and then walked along the busy embankment to Tate Modern.
Hugely enjoyable in there. Up to the fourth floor to look at one of their collection displays called 'Process and Energy' which Bob and I enjoyed raging at certain pieces in the collection such as Richard Serra's Trip Hammer. Some interesting work there of course, but there is a certain fogeyish pleasure to be had from snap judgements. Found myself soothed and entranced by some works, and of course lovingly lingered over the Ernst and Klee pictures they have. Carl and Bob have certain styles in art galleries and they had not lost their touch. Bob is generally methodical, but also pauses to seethe and wave his arms at things he disapproves of and will surge across the please do not cross lines around pieces. In contrast Carl moves in a kind of Brownian motion, one minute he is ahead of you and the next will crop up somewhere behind you deeply involved and prone to suddenly start talking about the The Blue Rider Group or Der Stijl.
After a few hours of this kind of thing, we went off to find alcohol. Urged into Borough Market now underneath the Shard and found a few places in which to drink beer and chat. Beer was drunk and enormous amounts of chat was had. It must be at least ten years since Carl, Bob and myself have all been in the same place at the same time, but the threads of it all were picked up as if we'd all met last week.
Ended up with a curry and rather a good one (if insolently served), nearby and then an absolutely bloody final drink and a play of a general knowledge pub quiz machine before the call of the seagull grew strong in me, and I left top hat askew, and mindful of the pesky rail replacement bus service. Arrived home some time after midnight. Lorraine had been out babysitting and got home minutes after. A great day.
Below Bob, Carl and I horsing about outside Tate Modern with Carl suddenly pretending to be very short; Bob and Carl coincide momentarily, other snaps of the notoriously uncamera-shy Carl.
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