A further day in which we didn't see Grandson

 

Today was the first time since... oh, about 1979 ... that Mr Life and I had absolutely no commitments; no one to whom we had to account for our movements. We did consider going for a medium-sized jaunt but then decided just to get on a bus and visit the National Portrait Gallery. That's it below. Above is a little mosaic-type-thing in the gap between buildings beside it. I thought it was rather fetching: thistles at the side (you have to imagine the right-hand one) an owl, a red squirrel, a newt? small dinosaur? and something else that I couldn't make out.

 

 

This is the outside of the gallery. I don't think I myself would have chosen sludge-coloured paint for the windows.

 

 

It happened to be coffee time when we arrived so we delayed the Culture bit for a while to check out that the ginger and oat slices and the date and oat squares were up to standard. They were. And the oats made them a healthy snack. But then we looked at the pictures. I've always enjoyed portraits. Who would have thought that there could be so many shapes of nose?

 

 

On the way home I decided to take a picture of this gold pillar box. Various British (red) pillar boxes have been painted gold in towns where Olympic gold medal winners live, and this one is for Sir Chris Hoy. I'm not a sports fan and don't fully understand why one should be sirred for riding a bike round and round in circles (or indeed for doing anything else, really) but still, how often does one see a gold post box?

 

That was the point at which I discovered that I'd lost the phone with which I was planning to take the photo. We retraced our steps and ran it to ground in a department store where we'd been earlier. Then, not to be foiled, we returned and took the picture. (Only because it was on the way to the bus stop. I'm not that entranced by gold paint. And you wouldn't have mistaken it for something King Midas had leaned against earlier in the day. There was a touch of sludge.)