It’s been a good weekend. I had a quiet night Friday, cooking for a couple of friends, then set out early the next day for London. I started by visiting the Jeff Bark exhibition, Woodpecker. The images were incredible, the lighting making the scenes dreamlike. Sadly I didn’t have the £10,000 I’d need to buy a print so didn’t linger lest the gallery figure that out.
I walked from Chelsea to Tate Modern along the Thames. On the way I passed by Tate Britain and popped in to see whether the Fairy Feller’s Masterstroke was currently on display. It was: the painting is much smaller than I expected, but incredibly striking. In particular the faces on the fairies are strange and wonderful.
When I reached the Tate I wasn’t much in the mood for looking at pictures, and spent the time catching up with a friend I’d arranged to meet instead. I then headed back to Brighton, spent a couple of hours writing, then turned North again for a ‘Fake New Year’ party. I caught up with some old friends, met lots of new people and had a thoroughly good time. Photos will probably turn up on flickr somewhere.
Sunday has been quiet. This morning I went to the playground with my godson and discovered I’m a little too wide to comfortably go down the slide. In town I went shopping, where I found a copy of Murakami‘s Norwegian Wood for a pound. I didn’t like The Wind-Up Bird Chronicles (the aimlessness of the main character annoyed me) but I’ve heard some interesting things about this one. I also found a copy of BS Johnson‘s novel (although 20,000 words stretches the definition a touch) Christie Malry’s Own Double-Entry. The introduction to the book was incredible and deserves a post of its own.
I’m now settling in for a long slow Sunday evening. I have nothing else left to do but writing and prepaing for the week ahead.