It’s international women’s day.
I woke up and stripped the bed in Camden. Went out onto the high street and paid for an American breakfast at Fridas, where they’ve themed the place on Frida Kahlo and they play salsa music on loop. They call it an American breakfast. Maple syrup is Canadian, pancakes, sausages, bacon. Nothing American there. Various fruits… it’s a Mexican diner, there’s nothing specifically American about the breakfast but for the name. In light of the fact that the redundant nation that used to think of itself as important has forced Google to rename the Gulf of Mexico, all these businesses should rename that breakfast. Frida would support it being a Mexican breakfast. Make it so.
I was on my usual deal of moving my car every two hours. Cat sitting has been pleasant but I’ve spent £86 on parking and that’s with my friend organising 4 hour permits for each day (couldn’t get more). My own fault, could have left it at home but I’ve been glad of my car. It’s just that as soon as you’re out of your borough it is really punishing having a car in London but that’s been the case for years. Discouraging yadayada you shouldn’t blah etc go swivel.
I caught Claire again early afternoon. She came with me to wrap party when Lou knew she was too busy making trousers. It’s always joyful hanging out with her. A walk with her, getting myself back into my body. That’s her thing. I am so glad of our friendship.
Then back across town to vote for M. She’s exhibiting in a gallery near me, there’s a people’s vote. I put my slip in. It’ll be a popularity contest, but worth punting it to my friend. Her art deepens year in year out. She is selling them now, as well she should, even if the galleries are taking incredible percentages. 40% from one today to the gallery, but she at least prices herself where she should be so it’s not a pisstake. Gallery will get almost as much as she gets, but without the gallery, no sale. Art is hard. You need somewhere to display it if you’ve made it and want money. I gave up on art as an investment when I took some of my father’s investment purchases to auction and realised that they would have to work hard to even get what he paid in the nineties. Since then I just look at what people want to charge with a calm wonder, and stop myself when I start to enjoy a piece too much. I’ve still got an attic full of art things that won’t even make what I paid on parking over three days.
Still I had a lovely city break, sleeping in a different place, rethinking this town. I’m a Chelsea boy, but North London has its charm and that’s where most of my friends are. Much easier to be social when I’m up there. Much as I managed it, but I did for a bit. And I’ve got friends ten minutes drive from here that I keep almost seeing and then not. And yes, I’m talking about you. Let’s hang.
Meantime I’m back with my sexy fluffy international women. Boo and Misty, dark and light, crazy and lazy. I’m there with them. All is well.
AlBarclay 