The day after Deptford it rained as if the sky could no longer contain its grief at humanity’s stupidity. But that was okay, because my sister and brother-in-law came for dinner, and to spend the night. She brought pudding, I roasted a chicken, and while it was in the oven we ambled down to the pub.
I can’t tell you how good it was to be able to do that. All of it. To be close enough to my sister for her to be able to pop in without too much ado, to chat about ordinary things in a characterful pub, and cook in a family atmosphere. While I faffed about with potatoes and goose fat my brother-in-law trimmed beans he and D had just brought in from the garden, and my sister passed me a glass of wine. We ate and talked and sipped as though we do it all the time, as once we did.
This trip has been very much a revisiting. I’ve heard many people say, ‘don’t go back,’ or, ‘you can’t go back,’ but I’ve found it nothing but grounding. Maybe that’s because I had no nostalgic intentions and, therefore, no expectations to be disabused of.
One of my major revisitings was of Tate Modern, I can’t emphasis how much I love that place, so I spent most of my last two days there. With my husband (who is just as interested in art as I am, if not quite so intensely obsessed), which made it even more special. Here are some photos from the first day:
Once we could take no more art, it can be a bit like eating too many delicious things, we wandered along the Southbank to mooch about the bookstalls.
Where I bagged myself, amongst other books, an Emily Dickinson’s Complete for twelve quid.
Then onto Soho past this burger munching street art,
for something to eat.
I wish I could tell you the name of the restaurant we chose because the food was so good I ate* till I popped, but it seems to be the only place from which I didn’t bring back a card**.
I’ll do the second day another time, it will need some work as it involves a very interesting photography exhibition from which I learnt more than I have a right to.
Header image was taken while resting our weary feet on a bench outside the gallery.
*I had satay chicken and crispy duck noodles with hoisin sauce, and an Asian inspired Martini that came – odd but slurp! – with a shot of prosecco. D had spring rolls and noodles with vegetables, and an Asian inspired Mojito (which I coveted).
**I’ve looked at Google maps and think it may have been Busaba on Wardour Street.