Wednesday, January 14, 2004
Yesterday, went for a little walk as part of my keep fit/try and learn my way around this capital city I've lived in for some five years now plan. Went to Queensway on the Tube and walked down through Kensington Gardens where they grow the wildlife huge, the crows and squirrels looked big enough to feed a family like they were Christmas turkeys. I'd heard of the Albert Memorial and the Royal Albert Hall many times before of course, but this was the first time I'd seen them. I was surprised by how big the monument seemed and how small the Hall seemed. No wonder they have things like Proms in the Park now, you could hardly fit anyone in there.
So then I walked down to the Victoria and Albert Museum. There wasn't anything I specifically wanted to see and this was only a couple of hours before closing so I just wandered aimlessly around, as my fancy took me. I couldn't believe how huge it was. Most museums and galleries that have tried to impress me with their size in the past have failed, but you keep turning corners in the V&A, expecting to find the door or window out on to the street and you see another long gallery running off in to the distance. There were two huge rooms full of statues and sculptures, including a vast replica of some tower that had had to be cut into two it was so high, quite how it was made and how it was got in there without a TARDIS amazed me. They also had the Rachel Whiteread Room 101 sculpture there, in amongst a load of medieval statues. It didn't work for me. The accompanying description was very evocative and described well what she was trying to evoke, how because you couldn't enter into Room 101 the exhibit evoked the claustrophobic atmosphere that Orwell wrote about in his book, but all we have is a huge block of off-white concrete. I doubt it'll still be there in fifty years time.
And then off to the Bisexual Underground for an evening of chat, laughter and blahblahblah. Most of us seemed to end up in the back room playing complicated card games based around a never ending game about inventing a horror movie or selling imaginary products to other people. A number of goths turned up and thank God they found a table where they could sit quietly and just look really moody. There was one bloke who turned up who didn't seem to talk to anyone at all and just sat quietly in the corner. I'd like to say that I went and talked to him but I didn't, and I don't feel any guilt at all.
Catching the Tube home I got talking to this guy, mid-fifties I guess, who was wearing a crumpled suit and completely pissed, think Peter O'Toole but very nice and affable. We were talking about Eddie Izzard mainly. There was a young teenage girl with an Alex Parks hairstyle, I guess Creepy is right, that's the next de rigeur haircut for the British Isles...
So then I walked down to the Victoria and Albert Museum. There wasn't anything I specifically wanted to see and this was only a couple of hours before closing so I just wandered aimlessly around, as my fancy took me. I couldn't believe how huge it was. Most museums and galleries that have tried to impress me with their size in the past have failed, but you keep turning corners in the V&A, expecting to find the door or window out on to the street and you see another long gallery running off in to the distance. There were two huge rooms full of statues and sculptures, including a vast replica of some tower that had had to be cut into two it was so high, quite how it was made and how it was got in there without a TARDIS amazed me. They also had the Rachel Whiteread Room 101 sculpture there, in amongst a load of medieval statues. It didn't work for me. The accompanying description was very evocative and described well what she was trying to evoke, how because you couldn't enter into Room 101 the exhibit evoked the claustrophobic atmosphere that Orwell wrote about in his book, but all we have is a huge block of off-white concrete. I doubt it'll still be there in fifty years time.
And then off to the Bisexual Underground for an evening of chat, laughter and blahblahblah. Most of us seemed to end up in the back room playing complicated card games based around a never ending game about inventing a horror movie or selling imaginary products to other people. A number of goths turned up and thank God they found a table where they could sit quietly and just look really moody. There was one bloke who turned up who didn't seem to talk to anyone at all and just sat quietly in the corner. I'd like to say that I went and talked to him but I didn't, and I don't feel any guilt at all.
Catching the Tube home I got talking to this guy, mid-fifties I guess, who was wearing a crumpled suit and completely pissed, think Peter O'Toole but very nice and affable. We were talking about Eddie Izzard mainly. There was a young teenage girl with an Alex Parks hairstyle, I guess Creepy is right, that's the next de rigeur haircut for the British Isles...
