A lovely thing happened today. I was walking past a shop when a very handsome young man ran out and said, "Excuse me, don't worry, I won't try to engage you in conversation. I just wanted you to know that you are lovely". I said, "Thank you, I will take that" and he ran back into the shop. This is how to respectfully wolfwhistle, people. I mean, it is 2017.
Anyway, I have started booking off a day a month from work so that I can do 'culture'. I cannot bear fighting through piles of posh children to look at paintings of a weekend, so a little mid-week outing makes me very happy.
I started the day with breakfast on the Southbank, then popped on a boat down the Thames to the Tate Britain. There were two passengers on the boat, including me. Use the boats people, boats are fun. I went to see Hockney, which was much busier than I expected (but zero posh children, so score). I loved the paintings of the Wolds. That colour though.
After all that I went to my spiritual home, The Barbican, and read some Rainbow Rowell. Eleanor and Park is giving me all the feels. It's still too cold to sit out by the fountains, sadly, but I spent a lovely couple of hours with my book anyway.
For next month's Artist Date I have caj booked a day trip to Paris, on a whim. First train out, last train back.