I’ve got to that point of the week and that point of my horrible cold where I can’t remember anything that happened last week except by looking at my sparse collection of photos. My educated guess is that in-between looking at ’16 photos only siblings will understand’ on Snapchat and stalking Taylor Swift on Instagram I probably did music practice, went to work, attempted to write my TMA and played tennis with my sister. I fact, I know I did the latter and I took photos of the sky from the court.
So fast forward to Saturday and I went to London for an OU tutorial which was fine, and then I went to the National Portrait Gallery to kill some time before I met up with Talulah. I’ve been meaning to go for ages as I haven’t been for years. I like going to galleries by myself as then you can go at whatever pace you want. If you want to stare at one painting for half an hour making up an entire novel in your head about the sitters’ lives then you can and if you want to speed walk through several rooms of tudor men who all look identical to you then you can.
One of the most amazing things they have at the moment (and if you live in London and haven’t seen this yet then I really recomend that you go have a look) is a series of photographs taken in the 1800s of the African choir who came over to the UK to perform. The main thing that was so amazing is how modern the photographs looked. I first saw them from an open balcony of the floor above and at a glance I thought that they were taken within the last five years. The focus is so sharp and the quality they have managed to get from the negatives is amazing. Obviously if you look closer at the photos you see things which start to age them, the damaged edges and some of the clothing but they are still wonderful photos.
I met up with Talulah and we went to a Mexican place for some food via Trafalgar Square where there were lots of people pretending that it wasn’t raining and that really they were on a different continent…
Talulah had never been to the Royal Opera House before so she was very excited and so was I because I love ballet and I’d never seen La Fille Mal Gardée before. It was really, really good. It turned out not to be about a garden, apparently gardée in not the same as jardin, but it was very funny which I wasn’t expecting. The only other funny ballet I have seen was Cinderella years ago which was equally as good.
I slept on Talulah’s floor on Saturday night and spent the day in London again on Sunday. I wanted to go to the British Museum but I took one look at the queue and changed my mind. I don’t think I ever quite appreciated the home ed perk of being able to go to tourist attractions in the middle of weekdays when I was younger. Instead I sat in some gardens and read my book and practiced my French by eavesdropping on the girls next to me. I swear that every single person I heard speak in London this weekend was French! I went to a Nordic bakery for lunch which caused one of my friends to declare that I am ‘literally the most random human ever’ which I took as enormous compliment although I would call it spontaneous rather than random. Anyway, the nordic bakery was great. I have no idea what anything was and even if I did I wouldn’t be able to pronounce it, but it tasted wonderful.
I nearly got on the wrong train to go home but luckily I noticed the unusual lack of other people on the train and found the right one in time.