My grand day out

Booked to meet a colleague in London for a chat over lunch, so made use of the trip. Our leafy little line appears to take a mid-morning rest, so I'd to go an hour earlier than would have been ideal. Making a virtue out of adversity, I took a stroll up to Chinatown to see if I could get replacements for our dwindling supply of porcelain rice bowls, which are ideal for the breakfast sawdust, making a pleasant visual and tactile experience of the ritual ingestion of Stuff That Is Good For You. Disappointment: I found the shop I'd bought from before, but all they had to offer was thick earthenware. And the only other place I could think of looking for them is Paddy's Market, Sydney NSW.

With time to kill, I headed along to Westminster Cathedral. Someone was practising on the apse organ when I was there: first time I'd heard it, having previously been only to organ grinds on the overpowered Willis organ at the west end of the nave. This time I took a bit more detail of the Eric Gill stations of the cross than I did first time round. Notably the pair of dice in Station X: wish I'd thought to check who'd put up the money for that one. Extraordinary work. Pity Gill was such a shit.

Having chatted with a Scots lady at leafy local station while waiting for the train, I followed her recommendation and went along to the Saatchi gallery after lunch. Some amazing stuff in there by young British artists. One had re-interpreted Flemish Masters in fluorescent egg tempura; another had produced enormous fantastic landscapes à la Poussin, capturing the light and colours perfectly, but asserting authorship with some odd contemporary details. Loved it. Also enjoyed a nice glass of pink outside afterwards, doing a spot of people watching. One joker in beige knee britches, black stockings and sandals had 'don't you know who I am?' written all over him. I didn't, and didn't feel the need to enquire.

I went down to Chelsea by bus, which was a nice experience. But it was amazing how many people just amble across the road, expecting everyone to slow down for them! Well, that's Pimlico for you, I suppose. The return was somewhat more direct: tube to Victoria, then two trains the rest of the way. After changing trains at East Croydon, I suddenly feel less enthusiastic about the forthcoming bus and train concessions for the aged.