While having breakfast, we met a young woman in a cafe. She had been looking over my shoulder at the sketches in my book and asked if I was an artist and when I said I just dabble, I had to explain myself. It turned out she was a sculptor which brought back memories of my efforts and my “dog’s head” in France. She takes books like mine when she travels and does as I do, sketch, doodle and dabble. She’s off to Prague to teach sculpture, bronzes. I want to be her pupil!
That inspired us to visit the National Gallery and the Portrait Gallery. Sharon found the Joshua Reynolds painting of Boswell which made her quite happy. She slapped my wrist when I took a forbidden photo of her admiring it. The Gallery is too large for just our short visit so we confined ourselves to the Dutch Masters, some Elizabethan paintings, the Van Goghs and Gauguins and some Venetian artists. I took some sketches. no photos allowed!
We made our way to Fleet Street (I haven’t read a newspaper for months) and had a drink in The Olde Cheshire Cheese, a pub from 1667. Terry Seymour, the man we met at Auchinleck House in Scotland, recommended we visit Dr Johnson’s House, the author of the first dictionary. The curator was quite surprised to learn that Sharon was Boswell’s ggggg granddaughter and insisted she write a message in the guest book.
We sat in St Pauls as the afternoon wore on and admired its grandeur. We’re off to the theatre tomorrow night, (please say this with a plum in your mouth) so will have a quiet day off the bike on the river to Greenwich. That’s the plan, anyway.