Cold, damp morning at Epsom; cool and clear by the time I got to Waterloo. Picked up a Bullingdon from the middle of the ramp and got to Portland Place without anything much happening, beyond the usual traffic violations by other cyclists. I clocked 21 minutes and 29 seconds from Waterloo Station 1, Waterloo to Broadcasting House, Marylebone, which seems rather a lot, but the computer never lies.
The bar at the Langham Hotel busier than I remember, perhaps because it was a Friday lunchtime. They could manage a Riesling glass in the sense of having swirls up the stem but it was clear glass and there was no Riesling, just New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc. But quite drinkable with biscuits all the same.
Wigmore Street being dug up very thoroughly. Doesn't seem very long since it was last dug up. I was also reminded by the sight of what had once been the Debenhams flagship, more or less opposite the hall, that there must have been plenty of money in top-end retail 100 and more years ago. Don't build many shops like that now, the expensive art facia of the current Debenhams notwithstanding. An art fascia which I continue to think is a fine example of the decorative art. I also continue to think that it is a pity they dumped what was their fine basement café in favour of a Patisserie Valerie, which never seemed as comfortable or as smart and which is now, in all probability, about to go under.
Wigmore Hall about half full for this debutante quartet, who seemed very young. I was reminded of the remark by one of the Endellions about how you know when you are getting old when the Prime Minister seems young. I thought they did better on the Haydn than the Schubert; against that I find that my response to favourites, like this Schubert, is very unpredictable. They might work most of the time but sometimes they don't. Maybe they are sometimes killed by expectations, in the same way as some parties.
Strolled down through a lively Carnaby Street (the most trendy place on earth in the mid 1960's, also once home to one of London's last surviving tobacconists) to the National Gallery, where I almost had an altercation with a young security person about the door through which I was allowed to enter. And sufficiently well oiled to tell him about how I had been going to the Gallery since before he was born. But we got over that and I got in.
Snap left of a fake pillar outside the gift shop, just before entry. I must have passed it many times before, but it seemed very new. Not a bad attempt to freshen up an otherwise rather dull fascia.
The gallery seemed very crowded, certainly for late on a Friday afternoon. Mainly young, foreign, holiday makers. Notwithstanding, I was able to score two jigsaws, Garafalo's 'Allegory of Love' and Holbein's 'Ambassadors'. And I am pleased to be able to report that both pictures wearing well. With the last visit to the first noticed at reference 2 and to the second noticed in among the posts of reference 3. Seems a bit unlikely that it is five years since I paid it a visit. Plus a quick peek at the Veronese noticed in a previous post.
Out to have a quick peek at the small exhibition of works by Barbara Rae about the Arctic in what used to be the Canadian High Commission. Not without interest, but a bit low on content to my mind. To my mind better suited to corporate rather than domestic decoration.
Home via Vauxhall (15 minutes and 39 seconds Pall Mall East, West End to Kennington Lane Rail Bridge, Vauxhall) and Earlsfield, scoring a sneaky four at this last. Reminded how the vertical rise over London can confuse from the south. But at least the lights were all visible at dusk.
Reference 1: https://www.goldenhindrestaurant.com/.
Reference 2: https://psmv3.blogspot.com/2017/12/braces.html.
Reference 3: https://psmv2.blogspot.com/search?q=holbein+ambassadors.
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