In this country the shampoo is pronounced ‘Panten’. Reminds me of my metalwork teacher who thought Toblerone was pronounced “Toblero-one”. I don’t think he was English, though he may have been. He did have grey hair, and a lot of the people in this country have grey hair.
Went to the Tate modern gallery today. Tasman and I walked, and Lucy and Tina took the bikes. Probably should have mentioned that everyone else has attempted the acquisition of bikes to use over here (except me), with varying success. At this point, there is one bike good for use, plus the bike belonging to the people whose apartment we are renting, which is a fold-up job.
Every single thing in the giftshop at the Tate Modern is something unrelated to art, which you could pick up from any shop in London with ‘TATE’ written on it and the price doubled. Except for the poster prints which were quite nice, despite being of paintings which were not in the gallery.
The surrealist section first, since both myself and Tina are great admirers of Salvador Dali over other painters. Brilliant. Without wishing to bore the reader by simply listing the exhibits (and also partly because I don’t have a memory good enough to do that), I will stick to key points. Of all the exhibits in the gallery, the one I kept going back to was Dali’s 1938 painting ‘Beach with Telephone’. It never occurred to me that there could be any difference between looking at a painting in a book and looking at the original, but of course there is. It is so much more of an experience seeing in such detail the composition of the artwork in individual brush strokes. A woman who stood next to me at the exhibition said as much. She also went to great detail to explain to me the intent behind the painting until I explained to her that not only was the Dali painting she was talking about not the one she was pointing at, the one she was pointing at was by another artist.
Having lost Tasman and left Lucy at one of the other exhibits, Tina and I submitted our own artwork to the gallery and after this brief reprieve (and rejoined by Lucy), we found ourselves at the café. I will take this opportunity to warn once more about the dangers of buying anything at this gallery. Their iced coffee is just cold coffee! But more importantly, it’s 30p more expensive than regular coffee! Not only do you pay for coffee, you pay them to cool it down for you! I could do that myself in twenty minutes! Following this, Tasman and Lucy attempted to take the bikes home,
The fold-up bike had been pilfered! All of us angry (except me), we trudged home, having a nice conversation about racism along the way.
Helped (by which I mean ‘given an ingredients list’) by Tina, I cooked fritters for all and there was much rejoicing. Turns out Tesco Mayonnaise mixed with wasabi tastes exactly like Hungry Jacks mayo or KFC coleslaw.
To round the night off, we watched the Nutty Professor, noting parallels between the title character and people we know. The perfect end to the perfect day.