neil (satyrica) wrote,

when at anchor we ride on the Portsmouth tide, we have plenty of time for play

Last Sunday was M's birthday and we seemed to successfully manage to fill it with things that make her happy: brunch, kitchenware for presents, art courtesy of the Delacroix: The Making of Modernism exhibition at the National Gallery and then friends over for roast beef in the evening. I enjoyed the exhibition: it did focus a lot on his influence on later artists, so we had quite a lot of the impressionists and beyond thrown in, which did leave me feeling that it could have stood to have more actual Delacroix, a couple of the rooms only had one piece by him in them.

N had stayed over and we went off to a practically deserted Spitalfields and met up with Tammy for coffee at Rough Trade, but I otherwise had a Bank Holiday of home-stuff and catching up on some work. After work on Tuesday I got the train down to Portsmouth to have dinner with cryx, whom it was lovely to see, before heading back to London again. Determined not to miss all of the hot weather being stuck in an office, I sat in Hyde Park and read for an hour and a half after work the next day and again on Friday evening. In between, I managed to enact a rather convoluted plan to go home to vote after work on Thursday, then immediately back into town to see The Maids at the Trafalgar Studios with the Culture Club folk. It was very deliberately not played in a naturalistic way, which suited Genet's typically lurid subject matter but sometimes became a bit of a distraction; it didn't change my world but certainly provoked plenty of discussion.

Yesterday N & I went up to Birmingham to catch up with some school friends I'd not seen for a while: we wandered around the city centre, admiring some of the architectural developments, had afternoon tea and checked out some art: some Dan Flavin light installations at the lovely Ikon gallery and then a wander through the city's grand main gallery/museum, which mostly featured a large collection of Pre-Raphaelites and the Staffordshire Hoard of Mercian gold.

The train back to London handily deposited me not far from The Water Rats where I was going to see some bands: they were all good, White Room my favourite new discovery, although the more anthemic Judas seemed to have the most adherents in the crowd, Clay had a more electronic sound and were probably the least my-kind-of-thing; I was mostly there to see Sisteray, who were on last and slightly suffered from the crowd having thinned out by then. A guy from another band I've been to see, who I've never spoken to but added me on Facebook recently, ended up sitting next to me at one point but, in an almost parodically English way, neither of us made any attempt to turn the online link into a meat-space one.

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