We’re in Reading, heading to Pembrokeshire in the morning. I had my first train journey in nearly two years today. A double journey, of course, that is. The timing was governed by that London trip because I couldn’t face it from Norfolk. The times I’ve been delayed, for whatever reason, have made me want never to do it again, though I suppose I’ll get over it.
A Lowestoft china client had a picture exhibition and he’d invited me to the private opening. Having accepted, I was almost too tired to go, but I didn’t want to let him down, I like his work and Peter Egan was the guest opening the exhibition. Which was the clincher. I went. Tim was quite tired after a long day yesterday, so I went on my own. I’m glad I haven’t lost my London mojo. It was good to just walk around, appreciating it.
I bought a picture. I don’t yet know where we will hang it, nor even in which house. I like it, that’s enough.