Hello, how was your week? I have just had a lovely morning, so I shall share it with you. It started earlier than expected (I sometimes accept invitations from my husband without checking the fine details first). We were standing on the station at 7am, which was bit of a rush as I had to sort out Goose, and the randy cockerel (who now has to sleep in a prison because he hurts my other birds) and the 7 ducklings (who make a muddy soup of wherever they are living). But after a quick shower, I was in the car at 6:55 as directed, and at the station in time for the train. (Also discovered I cannot use my railcard until 9:30, so more expensive as well as much earlier, than expected.)

As we waited, the power at the station gradually stopped working: first the automatic ticket machine died, then the credit card machine at the hatch, then the information boards. A little weird that it didn’t happen all at once. We decided to opt for the first train—a diesel—in case the electric train also died. So we ended up on a train to London Bridge, when we were heading to Kensington High Street. It all added to the excitement.

After squeezing into over-crowded tube trains (don’t think about the germs) we escaped into fresh air at Kensington. Kensington is very posh—even the tube station has artificial flowers and fake-Italian coffee shops. We turned right, walked past a few posh shops and cafes, then left into the modern forecourt of the Design Museum.

Husband had been invited to a ‘Breakfast and Preview of Splash.’ Splash is the new exhibit (about swimming), and I wasn’t sure how keen Husband was when the invite first arrived, so I told him I thought Pamela Anderson was there because I’d seen her photo online. Though I’m sure that didn’t influence him at all.

We arrived and had our names checked at the door, then were offered coffee (in proper cups and saucers) and pastries. We didn’t know anyone, and it wasn’t a ‘work-do’ so Husband chatted to me (rather than networking) and it was rather nice.

We went to see the Splash exhibit. It was mainly a display showing various styles of swimwear—some of which would be rather draughty! Pamela Anderson obviously decided not to attend in person after all, but her swimwear was there, so I didn’t feel I had been dishonest. (I have similar measurements to Pamela Anderson, just arranged in a different order.)

There was also a display about mermaids, and one stating that very few black people in England can swim, though I don’t know why this would be a thing. (The black people not-swimming, not the mermaids—mermaids are definitely a thing.) I grew up on a council estate, and we all learnt to swim, and beaches in England are free—so it’s not a financial thing. Maybe their parents didn’t think it was important—most black people I know can drive, and learning to drive is much more hassle than learning to swim, so it must be a lower priority. I shall have to ask them.

The exhibit was not extensive, but it was bright and fairly interesting, and made a good excuse to go into London.

Before we came home we went to a cafe for brunch, and that was the best thing of all. We sat at a little wooden table, perched on slightly wobbly chairs, and watched the world go past. Most of the world (in South Kensington High Street) wear expensive shoes, and have manicured hair, and walk with purpose. I wondered who they were, and where they had come from, while sipping coffee and eating a huge almond croissant which fell into crumbs that scattered across my clothes—so I fear I did not look especially manicured myself. But I felt very contented. We talked about nothing, and I tasted Husband’s salmon on avocado toast, and it was all rather lovely, and one of those mornings that remind you of why you got married all those years ago. Sometimes, just being, is rather lovely.

We got home at midday, released mad dog, and started work for the rest of the day. A fun little interlude.

I hope you have something fun this week too. Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x