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Published: July 23rd 2011
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Slept in this morning. The alarm went off at seven and I snoozed till 8:00. Boy did that feel good. Hives gone. Following a quick breakfast, cereal, fruit, juice and coffee I caught the tube for the Barkerloo Line and got off at Charing Cross Station. It was a short walk to Trafalgar Square and the National Museum. Dingbat left without replenishing the cash supplies so I was lucky I had enough for the Audio Player. If I weren’t old I wouldn’t have. I love those senior discounts.
The museum is fairly small compared to the Metropolitan in NYC but has an astounding number of masterworks. It is limited to European art from the 12th to the 20th centuries. I took the docent tour where a group of us were led to a few important paintings where the art and the artist were discussed in depth. We saw a Bellini, a van Eyck, a Rubens, and a Turner. The hour flew by and I spent another couple of hours wandering the galleries and enjoying 12th century altarpieces and 20th century Impressionists. All the master are represented; Leonardo, Raphael, Holbein, Botticelli, Rembrandt, Vermeer, van Dyck, Constable, Gainsborough, Monet, Seurat, Cezanne, Renoir and
TRAFALGAR SQUARE
A ship in a bottle? Van Gogh. It was a great way to spend an overcast day.
I returned to the hotel for high tea and a night at the ballet. I had planned to take the tube but the skies had opened up and I asked the front desk to call a taxi. When the car showed up, the driver asked me again where I was going and then called into HQ to find out how to spell the name of the street so he could enter it in his GPS. Now, London cabbies have to pass an extensive test and pride themselves on knowing where they are going and the best way to get there. Then I noticed that there was no meter in the cab so I asked the driver how much the ride would cost. He called HQ again and quoted 18 pounds. So I had him stop the car, got out and hailed a “real” cab. The ride with rush hour traffic and construction cost 13.80 pounds.
The ballet tonight was bitter sweet. It was the return to London of French choreographer Roland Petit’s most famous works, Carmen, Le Jeune Homme et la Mort (The Young Man and Death) and
HOTEL INDIGO
My home away from home. L’Arlesienne. Last week Roland Petit died and it was an especially emotional performance. All the dances were new to me as was Petit’s Choreography and I enjoyed it immensely. It is more athletic than Balanchine but still retains the essentials of classical ballet. Except for the male lead in the first ballet the dancers were strong, energetic, beautifully trained and fine actors. There were many tears on stage during the curtain calls.
Since it was close to eleven I decided to take a taxi to the hotel. While waiting in line I got to joking around with a blonde bird, her shaggy haired boyfriend and their buddy Steven. Steven wanted to go his own way, birdie and shag wanted him to go with them and Steven decided he was with me. Right, thirty something Steven and MOI?
Their cab arrived, Steven gave me the Continental kisses on the cheek and they all wished me a pleasant stay and they were off.
Who said England was stuffy?
Today’s discovery is a giant ship in a giant bottle in Trafalgar Square. Any ideas anyone?
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