Myself and eldest found ourselves in the position of being art critics last night at an exhibition, and again, decided to have fun. We decided to play that terribly childish game of speaking in hushed tones about the displayed works of art, but to sneak in the odd impolite and inappropriate phrase. Not a direct criticism of any of the work you understand, but really no more than a schoolboy game of getting away with saying rude things loudly. I love art, and I love looking at it, but I could cheerfully strangle many of the people who attend and pontificate at such events. We spent time at home today, and I built a park bench in readiness for our forthcoming play. We then sat it in the garden and had a cup of tea on it. My primal manliness came out for once and I felt good that I had made something physical and useful. It then started to rain, so I went inside and wrote about it instead...Oh the heady world of the artist. A fantastic rehearsal in the evening, and then we sped home to find our friends there already. A takeaway curry, large flagons of wine and good company, along with the cutest little baby, and all felt good with the world. I liked today.
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