pimlico's Diaryland Diary

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little things

Overheard in the Tate Gallery, yesterday: (A woman was explaining to a friend on her decision to take her son to the Gilbert and George exhibition)
"Well, he likes art and it's not as if he's a teenager and likely to get all embarrassed and all...And anyway, it's not as if there are pictures of naked ladies or anything!"
She was right. No naked ladies. But there were swear words, bodily fluids, naked buttocks, pubic lice and poo. What child wouldn't enjoy that?
I quite liked the exhibition. G and G's work has a strange beauty to it. I did wonder what will happen if one of them dies, though. Would the other carry on making pictures solo? Would they include images of dead Gilbert/dead George? Or would it be like Laurel and Hardy and the surviving one would turn his back on art and spend the rest of his life playing golf?

I don't like it when people use the words "I'm not sure if we are on the same page." in a work email. If only because I have to resit the temptation to reply with something along the lines of "The same page? We're not even in the same book, love. I'm nestled inside chapter 34 of Little Dorrit and you are a full stop on the last page of The Tiger Who Came to Tea." Obviously, I don't do this as it makes me sound like Mark out of "Peep Show."

Some kind person has put all the episodes of "Peep Show" on You Tube. Very funny. And occasionally very wrong.

"Not to self re: being the Fonz - Mark, you are not the Fonz!"

I had a lovely weekend, but feel strangely off-kilter today. I could blame my hormones for this. Actually, I will blame my hormones. It's easier than trying to question why. And it means I can cheer myself up temporarily with a purchase of some girly, wench style summer top or a pair of enormous earrings.

1:03 p.m. - 2007-04-30

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