Pictures, Words, Actions, Food And A Notable Life

Pictures. I strongly recommend the Lichtenstein Retrospective at the Tate Modern in that London. Dude could paint. Daughter Number 2 (who knows about these things) felt the show was not well curated but this detail did not hamper my enjoyment. Nor in the end did the behaviour of bored out of their brackets young children brought to the gallery by their idiot, inconsiderate parents. If you bring them then keep control of them! Allowing them to lie on the floor in front of the exhibits is not cute or even mildly endearing - I seriously toyed with the idea of staging an 'accidental' tripping exercise so that I could give one of the little buggers a sly kick. Didn't do it of course - you have to admire my restraint. You won't believe it but there was actually one little sod in the exhibition on his skateboard.

Words. I'm finally learning to wrestle with James Joyce. My method is to let it wash over me.

Wavewhite wedded words shimmering on the dim tide.
 

Actions. And Words as it happens. To the bijou charms of the Almeida Theatre in that Islington to see Before the Party. Excellent and even a star sighting - Timothy West and Prunella Scales in the audience below us. She's tiny.

Food. Doing something reliably and speedily is all that is sometimes needed so full credit to the staff at a crowded Strada on the South Bank. More evidence of uncontrolled children. As Woody Allen so memorably asked in Annie Hall, why is there never a large polo mallet to hand when you need one? I should stress I would use it on the parents not the children. At least to start with.

A notable life. The blogosphere will be knee deep in Margaret Thatcher - tributes and venting of spleens in equal measure. Not much for me to add save that it seemed to this employer of people that she liberated my generation from the captivity of decline. That my generation has used its freedoms so oafishly is not her fault. Reactions to her death have also served as a timely reminder of just what knob vans are Ken Livingstone and Gerry Adams. Not that any reminder was really needed.

Ship Of Fools Has A Cinema

I have said it before - if our ship of state were rudderless we might arguably be better off than we now are as Gideon and Dave steer us knowingly onto the rocks in the vague hope that the rocks will have eroded to nothing by the time we get there. At least when you are rudderless there is the chance that you will drift to safety.

You will doubtless have been gob-smacked by the sheer euro-effrontery of the Cypriot economic crisis and mused that there is always someone worse off than you - think again and read this excellent article which neatly explains the way we are dishonestly inflating our way out of depression riding on the back of savers - Great Savings Robbery

But enough of such misery. I have been in the city state that is that London this week and that and the nearness of my admirable offspring (both of whom most sensibly reside there) have made me prone to an invigorating optimism. Doubtless this will soon get knocked out of me once back at work next week but then it will only be three weeks till our Irish golf adventure. And in the meantime I have mostly been watching good films.

Exhibit A: Kind Hearts and Coronets. I seem to recall that this was the favourite film of Edward Heath. Doubtless he took great pleasure in the notion of worthless toffs being knocked off by the middle classes. Despite bearing the handicap of Heath's recommendation, this is a gloriously dark species of genteel comedy. 7/10.

Exhibit B: All The President's Men. 9/10. The strap line calls it 'the most devastating detective story of this century' and of course it is made all the more wondrous by the fact of its truth. Watergate manged to be America at its best and worst - best in its detection, worst in its commission. The journalism behind it made me want to be a writer. So how's that working out Dave?

Exhibit C: The Lion King. 8/10. Hakuna matata,as we say around these parts.

So, on balance, all things considered, at the end of the day, basically, you know, I will probably be alright Jack. But that, as any fule no, is not the bloody point.