Seeing Carl in London

Up to London with the sparrows, to meet Carl by Waterloo Bridge. Was an hour early and so sat in the RFH nursing a coffee and scribbling in my notebook. The cafe full of excitable graduates in mortar board hats and members of their proud families. Good to see the building used in that way.

Met Carl, as he had crossed the Hungerford footbridge. And we went back the RFH for another coffee. Loads to catch up on as we sauntered along the South Bank and had lunch in Gourmet Pizza at Gabriel's wharf, sensibly sharing a pizza and sparkling water. (Where Reuben, Kate and I used to take copy shop favourites). Then to the Tate to see the  Expressionism exhibition. When we are together, and with Bob too, we all automatically want to see art. Carl particularly fond of Expressionists. Lots of Kandinsky, who I've never much liked, until I saw them in the flesh today. Carl doing his trademark brisk flitting, and poring over certain things, and pointedly ignoring others. We fell into a conversation with a fellow viewer theorising over a black patch on a painting. Carl's theory was that it was a mistake.

Several pictures by Marianne Werefkin, whose work I did not know, but liked most.

We left by the non riverside entrance, and wandered about a bit till we found ourselves by Dogetts by the river, where we settled down for a couple of beers. The water very high while we were there. Carl making me laugh lots telling me about Ellie's malapropisms... 'Too many c*nts and not enough chefs' being one. Then a scurry across Blackfriars bridge, and we settled in The Punch where we had a couple more pints, served in old fashioned jugs. Then semi randomly ended up in Wagamama's near St Pauls Cathedral. Woofed down some nice grub there, and extremely fond farewells at Blackfriars. Carl had a hotel room at Gloucester Road.

During the course of the evening, we worked out that we had been friends for 50 years. As youths we used to wonder if we'd still be having drinks when we were sixty. Turns out we do. 

Fairly easy journey home for once, and a lovely day. Sat for a while with Lorraine telling her about my adventures on the gold sofa before bed.

Below Carl on the South Bank, Two pictures by Werefkin, one of an ice rink, the other of a storm at sea with fishermen's wives anguished on the rocky shore, and Carl and I drinking conker coloured beer.