Well woke up early to the sound of seagulls and car engines. I was craving the Tudors and had missed the BP prize on my wet transit through London. A hasty climb up the hill and 50 minutes later I am alighting at London Victoria. I had a lovely Sunday morning walk through Covent Garden, Notting Hill and then to the National Portrait Gallery. As always the BP was totally fantastic. There were quite a few people wandering but still managed to have a good look at the wonderful portraits – oh the talent of artists from all over the world. There were a couple of Aussie portraits, including a stunning one of Robert Hoge.
I tubed it to the V&A and had a lovely time slumming it in South Kensington. The sensory assault was settling with the gorgeous Arts and Craft furniture, mid century Danish and great clothes. I don’t know anyone that would fit into those 1700 gowns, and I remain totally intrigued by the tiny shoes and oh so petite gloves. Honestly, even the skinny people I know wouldn’t even get a leg in. Well of course on that note, I had to go in search of proper English tea, so thoroughly enjoyed my cucumber sandwiches, cream scones and champagne.
As I arrived back into Brighton, I was back into the crazy psychedelic sensory experience. This time, millions of seagulls, swarming over the pier in the dusty light. The whole of the Village People were now at the pub, in full Village People regale. Swarming Hitchcock birds, high camp, and fairy floss, gorgeous Harajuku wearing young Japanese girls – how on earth am I going to cope with a visit to platform 9 and ¾, the Hogwarts express, Churchill College and a sedate healthcare conference in Cambridge?
Sleeping under the stars 