We all rolled out early Tuesday morning, a lingering effect of jetlag. In this corner of London, the city itself doesn’t do much business before a very civilized 10 AM. In fact, the only place we could find that was open? Bucks. Yeah, Starbucks. After disturbing the peace as much as possible, we got an early breakfast, and then everyone proceeded to nap. Seista time.
But the sun was out, and the day was warming nicely. The Tate Modern. Yeah, that modern stuff, then a little Shakespeare….
“If it prove so, then laughing goes by haps,
Some Cupid kills with arrowes, some with traps.”
(Hero in Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing, third act)
The version of Much Ado About Nothing was good. Very good. Maybe not great, but ever since the movie came out, every version of this play I’ve seen tries to emulate the Dogberry of Michael Keaton, usually, as a poor imitation. However, the Globe was, as to be expected a little different. For starters? All female cast. Then, of course, the play itself was done with art and perhaps hewing towards a traditional Elizabethan styling. Or something. It was good. I know, comedy, but I cried a bit. Always like the happy parts.
Me. By a boat. Notice: fish.
Over a fabulous evening repast, we discussed Sister’s recent surfing habits. She was looking for Gill, Maillol and Modiglilani. Looked like she was surfing for that ‘triple x’ material.
“Oh no, it’s not porn, it’s art.”
So that’s what they’re calling it thee days. Picture of naked bodies. That stuff is now art.
Of course, couldn’t do without the gratuitous broccoli reference, at the end of the meal, either. Back to that.