Monday, January 22, 2007
Well that was a fun weekend.
On Friday I finished the working week hearing that I'd been succesful at my interview and was being offered a post as an Assistant Library Manager somewhere else. Now I'll be officially empowered to be nasty to other members of staff rather than doing it on a pro. tem. basis.
Saturday I went in to town, headed down to Tate Modern for the first time in ages. The queues for the slides were all too long and boring so I had a nose around the David Smith exhibition. I knew nothing about Smith, hadn't even heard of him before I saw the exhibition, but I did like his work.
After that I was off to The George on Borough High Street to meet C and S. We had to sit outside but the freezingness was mitigated by some tall freestanding storage heaters, though the table of drunk misogynist city-bores did try to steal them all to stand round their table. One of them started screaming into his mobile at his 'C*nt' of an ex-girlfriend and they melted away into the night.
We had something to eat at a Wagamama's and then saw S off on the train home, then C and I struggled to get up to Kentish Town. From Blackfriars it shouldn't be that difficult but the Sutton-Bedford trains were playing silly buggers and a fifteen minute train journey became a fifty minute journey with a thirty minute wait on the Kings Cross Thameslink platform for a train that wasn't going fast out of London.
While I don't know the specifics of where I will be working yet it will involve some level of commuting, so I will get to sample the pleasures of delays, cancellations and random BR and Tube related maliciousness.
We eventually made it to The Oxford, which I hadn't visited since it had changed it's name from the Jorene Celeste. I was commended on my new job and my tremendous hair and then I settled down to the prospect of trying to find some beer that I liked to drink. I had to give up on that very quickly and make do with Kronenberg and Carlsberg, donkey-piss brands both. We were assembling to cheer the brief visit of a friend of ours that had moved to Singapore several years ago. Beer was drunk, cigarette health warnings were ignored and it was declared that Fidel Castro was guilty of many crimes but surely the worst was to allow the Manic Street Preachers to play in Havana.
I headed home at midnight while most other people decided to buy more wine and drink at someone's flat nearby. I got a call around lunchtime from C who had woken up to find herself in Mr Singapore's hotel room with no memory of how she got there. We reconvened in Islington where we had delicious and cheap vegetarian Indian food (at the Indian Vegetarian Bhel Poori House IIRC) then we headed towards Kings Cross. I popped in to the British Library to have a look at their London: A Life in Maps exhibition. It was interesting to see both the development of the town (Tottenham Court Road was still bordered by fields in the 1700s) in to the city but also the increasing detail in the maps as it becomes more of a necessity for people to find their way around rather than the well-off to know which estate is which. However, whoever lays out this exhibitions really needs to be poked with spoons. I don't know if there are permanant walls down in that space that cause problems but starting the exhibition right slap bang at the bottom of the stairs into the room means that as soon as you have people coming in they are all crammed together trying to read the notices and see the first exhibits, roman maps of what would one day be 'Londinium'. Then, within the exhibition space there are several times when the path splits and the visitor is given no guidanec as to which way to go. These are little niggles though, the old maps are beautifully preserved (I remember some of them from what I think was a similar exhibition at the British Museum a few years back) and there's nothing more fun than scouring old maps looking for the road you live on or places you visit today.
After that I rejoined C in the Pizza Express across the road where we sat across from Vanessa Feltz. After the glacially slow service we walked up to Euston and caught the train back to my den of iniquity where we whiled away the rest of the day watching MASH repeats and looking for Captain Jack vids on YouTube.
On Friday I finished the working week hearing that I'd been succesful at my interview and was being offered a post as an Assistant Library Manager somewhere else. Now I'll be officially empowered to be nasty to other members of staff rather than doing it on a pro. tem. basis.
Saturday I went in to town, headed down to Tate Modern for the first time in ages. The queues for the slides were all too long and boring so I had a nose around the David Smith exhibition. I knew nothing about Smith, hadn't even heard of him before I saw the exhibition, but I did like his work.
After that I was off to The George on Borough High Street to meet C and S. We had to sit outside but the freezingness was mitigated by some tall freestanding storage heaters, though the table of drunk misogynist city-bores did try to steal them all to stand round their table. One of them started screaming into his mobile at his 'C*nt' of an ex-girlfriend and they melted away into the night.
We had something to eat at a Wagamama's and then saw S off on the train home, then C and I struggled to get up to Kentish Town. From Blackfriars it shouldn't be that difficult but the Sutton-Bedford trains were playing silly buggers and a fifteen minute train journey became a fifty minute journey with a thirty minute wait on the Kings Cross Thameslink platform for a train that wasn't going fast out of London.
While I don't know the specifics of where I will be working yet it will involve some level of commuting, so I will get to sample the pleasures of delays, cancellations and random BR and Tube related maliciousness.
We eventually made it to The Oxford, which I hadn't visited since it had changed it's name from the Jorene Celeste. I was commended on my new job and my tremendous hair and then I settled down to the prospect of trying to find some beer that I liked to drink. I had to give up on that very quickly and make do with Kronenberg and Carlsberg, donkey-piss brands both. We were assembling to cheer the brief visit of a friend of ours that had moved to Singapore several years ago. Beer was drunk, cigarette health warnings were ignored and it was declared that Fidel Castro was guilty of many crimes but surely the worst was to allow the Manic Street Preachers to play in Havana.
I headed home at midnight while most other people decided to buy more wine and drink at someone's flat nearby. I got a call around lunchtime from C who had woken up to find herself in Mr Singapore's hotel room with no memory of how she got there. We reconvened in Islington where we had delicious and cheap vegetarian Indian food (at the Indian Vegetarian Bhel Poori House IIRC) then we headed towards Kings Cross. I popped in to the British Library to have a look at their London: A Life in Maps exhibition. It was interesting to see both the development of the town (Tottenham Court Road was still bordered by fields in the 1700s) in to the city but also the increasing detail in the maps as it becomes more of a necessity for people to find their way around rather than the well-off to know which estate is which. However, whoever lays out this exhibitions really needs to be poked with spoons. I don't know if there are permanant walls down in that space that cause problems but starting the exhibition right slap bang at the bottom of the stairs into the room means that as soon as you have people coming in they are all crammed together trying to read the notices and see the first exhibits, roman maps of what would one day be 'Londinium'. Then, within the exhibition space there are several times when the path splits and the visitor is given no guidanec as to which way to go. These are little niggles though, the old maps are beautifully preserved (I remember some of them from what I think was a similar exhibition at the British Museum a few years back) and there's nothing more fun than scouring old maps looking for the road you live on or places you visit today.
After that I rejoined C in the Pizza Express across the road where we sat across from Vanessa Feltz. After the glacially slow service we walked up to Euston and caught the train back to my den of iniquity where we whiled away the rest of the day watching MASH repeats and looking for Captain Jack vids on YouTube.
Labels: British Library, exhibitions, London, personal history, restaurants, sculpture, Tate Modern/Britain
