I met up with some old school friends at the Tate Modern this weekend. Great to see them, scary to see how little they have changed, even though I have known one of them for 40 years, and the other for over 30. What is it that makes lasting friends?
Annnnyyyywwwaayyy, had a good afternoon, walking the length of 'the crack', and reminiscing about people even though we couldn't remember their names. I still haven't got to grips with the rehang at Bankside, and miss some of favourites I used to visit - if anyone ever reads this and can tell me what the picture with the moving hairs was called, and who it was by, I will be very grateful, to the extent that I may even buy you a virtual drink.
I've also been watching some of the new season telly, and I'm hugely enjoying Moving Wallpaper, though I'm struggling a bit with the partner programme, Echo Beach, probably for all the same reasons that I don't usually watch any of the soaps. However, being the post-modern girl that I am, I'm a real sucker for the in-joke, and both parts of Moving Beach (or whatever!) are stacked with them, so I'm coming back for more so far.
I have far less excuse to love 'The Palace', but I do, with a passion. With huge suds and splashing about by those stock 'characters', by rights this should be awful, but it isn't. Engaging well acted leads, a plot that swishes you along too quickly to notice the threadbare bits, and lots of glossy corridor movement........*
* I've just realised this is West Wing syndrome, and once addicted, any old substitute will do. Well, I don't care, I'm going to make the most of it for now.
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