Wednesday, September 23, 2009
The dusty fire grate went off to a woman in pristine white trousers, driven off in a brand new car, presumably dispensing gobbets of grime on to its brand-new carpet all the way home; the tiles, plus a selection of surprised woodlice and panicking mini-spiders, were packed up into plastic boxes and piled into a very posh vehicle with satnav and what could well have been a personalised numberplate.
After my wardrobe misadventure later on that night (which I will tell you about in a couple of days: I hope the situation rectifies itself before then!), I needed a day off, so I met Joan Ashworth, my animator and animated friend, at the Victoria and Albert after snaffling a forbidden croissant in desperation, having missed breakfast.
We had gone to see the 'Telling Tales' exhibition, a fascinating little exhibition of artefacts that tell a story. There's a boat that's actually a bath with taps at the end (the water is inside, rather than outside), a cow-shaped bench made of leather, some slippers made of moles, and all sorts of other Grimms Fairy Tale type things.
Afterwards we went into the courtyard for coffee, where there were lots of beautiful little lime trees in pots (not an orangery- a limery?) and a selection of beautiful little people sitting round eating almond cake and sipping beverages. It had a bit of a continental feel, those high-windowed red brick walls and the oasis of calm with chaotic and grubby Exhibition Road just over the other side.
The V & A has a brilliant shop, with things that look like exhibits. Some of them are furiously expensive but you can get something for £1.50 (all right, it's a button, but a very special big one made of porcelain with a bluebird painted on it!). I gobbled it all up with my eyes and bought you a little something for your birthday Sarah, but I'm not going to tell you what it is!