Leaping nimbly from the No 14 bus, we were greeted by this l-o-n-g queue outside the V and A. We had forgotten that an exhibition of 40 years of David Bowie's satin lingerie and sparkly pantaloons had recently opened. Fortunately once we were in the doors, the Bowie freaks went in one direction and we in the other. (I do like Bowie: am just not interested in paying 15 pounds to see his manky old trousers.)
We spent some time admiring medieval religious icons, mainly virgins, and renaissance statuary (pictured), before moving on to iron gates. There were big gates, small gates, wrought-iron gates, self-locking gates, water gates, pearly gates. If you're a gateophile, the V & A is your destination.
Having overdosed on gates, it was time for a refreshing pot of tea and currant bun in the V &A cafeteria. What an extraordinary space - full Victorian pomp and splendour,
with sumptuous meals on offer. Had we wished, at 10.45am, we could have ordered maple-smoked saddle of hare with borage flowers. Instead, we settled for custart tarts and a cup of Lipton's finest. Delicious! And we took the opportunity to chat about gates with considerable enthusiasm and new-found knowledge.
Leaving the V&A, we trudged through snow and sleet to the bus stop for return to our base at Russell Square, where we had arranged to meet up-and-coming opera diva, Ms Rhia Winchester, (HSC, BA) now a London resident who, among other pursuits, is seeking opportunities to don the horned Brunhilde helmet.
I have no idea who the chubby, red-capped sheila on the left of this pic is, but she has cropped up more than once in this blog, and frankly I wish she would sod off. And Wilfred Winchester, your daughter looks well, seems very happy and was excellent company. None of us will eat for a week after our hearty British lunch, which, surprisingly, contained neither cheese nor baked beans. There were chips though. Till tomorrow then, XXXX
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