Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Monday, January 12, 2004

Sun Yourself

I was very much surprised to find Gertie - shivering and looking like a drowned rat - camping outside our front door as I left for work this morning. It appears I had accidentally let slip that Impossibly Beautiful Housemate Mark had once again split from his girlfriend, and our favourite feral friend ran all the way from his home in Euston to get first dibs on him.

The surprising split of Mark and Caroline gave an otherwise lovely weekend a bitter coda that could well have been missed out (c.f. The Matrix Revolutions). The Wife and I had spent the most delightful time drinking cocktails in the Oxo Tower, being driven around London at speed, and popping to St Pauls Cathedral to try and sneak our way into the choir line-up. I think that a) we both have beards and b) I can’t carry a note in a bucket gave the game away, and we had to hide in a larger-than-average priesthole until the bishop ran by.

Also, we finally got to the Tate Modern to see the - frankly unimpressive - giant sun they have there. The most delightful thing about the exhibit is that they have mirrored the whole of the ceiling, leaving loads of heathen tourists and wannabe evaluators lying on their backs on the concrete, staring up at themselves and waving. It finally proves that these nodding art critics to nothing more than budgerigars. I, personally, cannot wait for the V&A’s forthcoming ‘Cuttlefish’ exhibition.

Oh. And I shall be charging Gertie for the spoon-marks in our front door, too.

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