Cube

During the course of the visit to the BBB noticed at reference 1, I had been told about the wonders of the nearby white cube, of reference 2, so the next day I thought that I would give it a go. An old Etonian who had chummed up with the likes of Damien Hirst and gone on to do wonderful things in the world of modern art. With a converted warehouse in Bermondsey and a converted sub-station in Mayfair. Not ever having been to Bermondsey, I thought I would give that one a go.

Off to a good start, with a splendid display of pink hollyhocks and pink roses in a garden in Meadway, on the way to Epsom Station. At the station, two ladies with silly hats for Ascot.

Alighted at Waterloo, pulled a Bullingdon from the ramp and pedalled off to Tyers Gate in Bermondsey, a journey, including getting slightly lost, of some 22 minutes and 9 seconds. Heading south from London Bridge I missed my turning and took in the Roebuck and the Bricklayer's Arms roundabout, places last visited five years ago and noticed at reference 3. Why was there just the one bricklayer? It seems a bit unlikely.

But then I found my way into Bermondsey Street, a regular hive of activity, with lots of gentrification, lots of converted commercial & industrial buildings and lots of what, at least, had been affordable accommodation. Lots of dinky little eateries and drinkeries. A fine rose garden, snapped above, off Leathermarket Street. I found the cube but, sadly, found that I had missed my day and it was closed while they put up the next exhibition.

So back to Tyers Gate and pulled another Bullingdon, or quite possibly the same one, and pedalled off down Snowfields Street, past Guy's Hospital and onto the Blue Fin Building next to the Tate Modern.

Called in Gail's Bakery for a spot of lunch, with a rather chewy sour dough roll for main course, full of salad, green goo and mozzarella. Rather good, much better than the sultana scone (served with butter and jam) which followed, which was fresh enough, but rather heavy. For some reason scones, easy enough to cook at home, always seem to be difficult in a commercial setting.

Interesting clientèle, including a lady who showed no embarrassment at all at the huge amount of mess being made on the floor by her baby. No attempt to clear it up when she left. Another lady with a splendid pleated skirt down to her ankles, decorated with wide vertical stripes in pastel shades. A splendid skirt, but she was, perhaps, a little too large to show it off at its best. The music was rather too loud, but it took some young city gent type to have the wit to ask them to turn it down. Wetly, I had just put up with it.

Onto the turbine hall in Tate Modern, very nearly empty, in which state I always find it very impressive. On this occasion, complete with some elaborate, arty noise, the product of what must have been dozens of loud speakers hung up at intervals along the walls. Rather interesting. There can't be many spaces as good as this one for a sound installation. Although that said, we have heard some good things in what used to be the Duveen sculture hall at Tate Britain.

Followed by what I think must have been a first visit to the tank rooms since they had been refurbished, with an interesting mixture of old and new concrete and a strong smell of concrete. A range of modern art installations, including rather a good one in the largest tank, consisting mainly of concrete balls, rope and more arty sounds. I associated to the time when I had puzzled about the best way to make a concrete ball - with grinding the thing down from a cube counting as cheating. Sadly I seem to use the words 'concrete' and 'ball' rather a lot, so it is going to take a while to track the relevant entry in the blog. Maybe I will get around to checking after breakfast.

Altogether a good visit, my first visit to the Tate since I allowed my membership to lapse, getting on for a year ago, but with the blog revealing a visit to Tate Britain in October 2016. Something else to check after breakfast.

A third Bullingdon from Bankside and so back to Waterloo, managing on this occasion to take the pole position on the ramp.

Tube to Tooting Broadway and into Wetherspoons for a spot of Villa Maria, Sauvignon Blanc, this being the place where a cheerful barmaid introduced me to the stuff, now bought in dozens, most recently from Sainsbury's, having found them to be cheaper than Majestic Wine, rather to my surprise. And you get the Nectar points, with, as they say at Tesco's, every little bit helping. Talk of potatoes, of computer power supplies and of a singer by the name of Nellie Mackay. Some friendly dispute about how exactly she spelled (spelt?) her family name.

Outside, at the bus stop and on the bus, perhaps the wine was talking, but I had the comforting sense of everyone pulling together. Everyone determined to put a good face on things, to be nice to each other, without regard to colour or divine affiliation, and to somehow pull through our current difficulties.

A spot of nostalgia as the train pulled into Wimbledon for the independent café which used to be where the stand-up Starbucks now is on platform 8. A place which sold weak tea and shrink wrapped rolls, all very cheap and entirely adequate. A place which used to be very handy when one needed a spot of something to soak up some of the drink taken.

Reference 1: http://psmv3.blogspot.co.uk/2017/06/barrowboy-banker.html.

Reference 2: http://whitecube.com/.

Reference 3: http://pumpkinstrokemarrow.blogspot.co.uk/search?q=scotted.

Reference 4: http://www.nelliemckay.com/.

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