From Bustling London to a Familiar Haven

Everyone’s a comedian here. I was finding my way to the Tate Modern one day, and saw a guy giving directions to someone, and a taxi driver leans out of his window and yells ‘Steal a job aye, mate?’

I really enjoyed the Tate Modern, and learnt heaps and heaps. I always find modern art more difficult to understand than traditional portraits, and since there’s a lot I don’t know about modern art I wanted to take this opportunity to gain as much knowledge of it as possible. What a mission! It took the whole day to work through something like three floors of exhibitions. Some of it I had never heard of, like vorticism. I think fair enough that I hadn’t heard of that one though. By the end of the day my brain was buzzing and my feet were heavy. I felt drained and exhausted, and kind of giddy, like my brain had got drunk without me. I felt really satisfied though and was trying to keep these new thoughts from flying away, but they spilled out my ears and flew away like butterflies. They might come back, I hope they come back.

While I was in London I also managed to see the exhibition called ‘Michelangelo’s Dream’ at the Courtauld Gallery. There were some other exhibitions there which I also saw. Was Michelangelo gay? I think he was… But of course they didn’t out right say it, it was all kind of hinted at so I couldn’t tell for sure. But he wrote letters and poems to this ‘friend’ of his. And consulted him about lots of his artwork. Michelangelo’s drawings always look very… classical, and I’ve never really understood how. I don’t often draw guys, cause they’re difficult. I mean, I can never really tell if I should draw hip, lips or eyelashes even though I know they have them, but it looks wrong to include them. Anyway, I was comparing Michelangelo’s female drawings, the few that were shown, with what I draw, and his are muscular but quite chunky. There’s volume and solidity to all of his figures. I loved seeing his pen and ink drawings too – his cross hatching is so precise! I had a go later, but it’s not the same. Fun though, drawing male torsos haha my sketch book is definitely not a good impression of me. Lol! That makes me laugh, re-reading that sentence.

My last day in London was the 13^th, after which I returned to Fran’s in Buckingham. I was really lucky actually, she needed to come to London that day anyway so she picked me up.

On our way back to Buckingham, Fran showed me Quainton. This little village was home to my mum and Fran, my aunty Sarah and my grandparents. This is where my ouma is buried, in the churchyard in what used to be a grove of oak trees. Recently the oaks have been cut down, which is sad but I guess there must have been some reason for it. The church was built in the days of the Vikings, I think, a very, very long time ago. As Fran and I walked around the village she pointed out things from their past that I hadn’t known. Like the lane which they took to get to school, and the house of the couple they called their grandparents. I took lots of photos, and felt weird remembering things I had seen when I last visited in 2006.

From staying at Fran’s I managed to take day trips to see Oxford and Cambridge. It took about an hour to get to Oxford and I loved it. It is green and has a river, and sun shone on the stones of the old buildings. In the street there were buskers and a fire stick dancer, and some very kind people in the shops. It’s a university town, so there were lots of students, and it seemed like a cool place to be.

Going to Cambridge took over twice as long, and the bus stop was at the edge of a massive field that seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. I found a group of shops which I took to be the ‘centre’ by following people who looked like they knew where they were going. I bought a top that was on sale, £7; sounds unnecessary but I really don’t have much with me, and two of my tops are stained. Cambridge is another university city, and groups of students were lounging on the grass when I went back to the bus station. As usual I had just missed one and the next was in half an hour. Despite this I ended up looking like a fool by running to catch it. Nowadays I don’t care so much about looking like a fool. Like when I’m looking lost with my heart patterned back pack on and lugging my red luggage case behind me, at one point I would have felt really stupid. Now I just don’t care, and I guess it could be worse. I could be dragging a vacuum.

Soon, though, I had to leave the comfort of Fran’s house, the place which now feel almost like home. It was so nice to have that week or so in Buckingham to revive and relax. London took all my will power and strength, and had left me feeling very tired, very anxious, very stressed. In that week I could sleep and eat and talk, all luxuries I hadn’t had properly for three weeks. But the time had come to move on, so I planned the rest of my adventure, which I hadn’t really attempted until then. 

Chaos awaits

tamarillo xoxoxoxoxox