Berthe Morisot

I’m awakened by the noise of children. The sun is streaming in through the roof window and I’m overheating in Megan’s mega sleeping bag. I’d prefer to doze, but getting up is required.

The house guests are all out-of-towners - mostly from Nottingham. Fran, Inga, and Kit are all artists. Luis (?) used to travel for work. Chloe takes the children out and we pile into the tidying up. The place is spic and span before 10.

We spend some time lounging in the sun on the roof terrace. There’s a huge view of London - the city, the eye. Last night it was outlined by red warning lights on buildings, but today it’s an endless smudge of human activity - even though there are no humans to be seen.

I take the bus to Dulwich and spend a wonderful hour at the Berthe Morisot exhibition. “I like either extreme novelty or things of the past” she said (probably in French :). I’ve seen pictures of her work before, but it’s great seeing them up close (extras).

The permanent collection (at least, what’s on display) leans heavily to classics and old masters, which is not my things. Although there are three Canalettos that have a clarity that I like.

Back on the bus to Brixton, The the tube to King Cross. A pint and some chips in the Betjeman and the Lumo to Edinburgh (Deadpool 2). Bus to the car, some shopping in Sainsburys, and home. At last.