Top floor, top theatre, top day

Georgina and I are now in a pattern. We go to a gallery or museum, say the Tate Modern or The National Portrait Gallery. We go to the cafe on the top floor, get a seat against the window and have a hot drink, very, very slowly. We look out over London: St Paul's, Nelson's Column, Westminster, Trafalgar whatever Monopoly acquisition was the favourite- inspecting carefully the gargoyles, statutes or oranmental florishes that decorate the rooves of the buildings many of which were completed well before Australia was even discovered. We watch the London Eye as it turns imperceptibly, then eventually gather up the energy to view the artworks. It is a winner of a plan.

We had followed the advice of one who knows (thanks Grant Exon) and bought £10 tickets to whatever play at The National Theatre has leftover tickets for that night. It turned out to be Gethsemane. We knew very little about it but thought that standing room for 2 1/2hours for £10 might work, anyway we could always leave half way through, we thought. It turned out to be a brilliant play about the last days of the Blair government. It starred the woman from Black Books and a whole assortment of the great English actors whose names I can not remember but who can act and then some. I had my prejudice against Australian plays ie Murray-Smith and Raison confirmed, as we forgot that we watched a play standing up and wallowed in the whole thing.