Fun after all
After my childish moaning this morning, I made my mind up to enjoy the antiques fair. It turned out not to be antiques at all, but a design and art fair, featuring some paintings hideous enough to make the eyes bleed, but enough nice stuff to make it worth being there. Things I especially liked were delicate porcelain teapots in Chinese glazes by Melanie Brown, spevtacular (but horribly expensive) felt rugs from Kyryzstan, delicate, whimsical (if slightly twee) papercuts by Rob Ryan, and some interesting chairs by made by melting a seat shape into a pile of plastic pipe or rope with a heated metal form. Best of all was the fantastic huge map of London, re-imagined as an island, and packed with tiny writing detailing history, stories, pubs, the sites of famous murders and incidents in the life of the artist, Stephen Walter, who turns out, annoyingly, to have an exhibition at St Pancras Church, Euston Road, that ends tomorrow. I'll just have to prise myself out of the house to see it. I really loved being able to talk to some of the artists; if I had that sort of flat and £300 going spare, I would have bought one of the teapots under a dome. The map was on sale too, as a print, but it was way out of my price range and far too huge for my flat anyway.
On the way home, I felt remarkably happy and lucky to live here, and this cheeriness persisted throughout the journey, even when the second bus turned out to be packed with Italian teenagers. I'm still feeling pretty jolly now. Maybe I've been overdoing the pain-killers.
On the way home, I felt remarkably happy and lucky to live here, and this cheeriness persisted throughout the journey, even when the second bus turned out to be packed with Italian teenagers. I'm still feeling pretty jolly now. Maybe I've been overdoing the pain-killers.