Brush up on culture...

I am unreasonably tired for someone who slept nigh on ten hours last night. I can feel the weight of four months’ sleepless weekends sitting on my eyelids. I catch sight of myself in a mirror and am surprised at how exhausted I look – not weary so much as dazed, pale even beneath bronzed cheeks.

Since being single again, I have found myself with a lot more time on my hands. I do and achieve much more. Hours lolling about in bed are no longer an acceptable way to spend Sunday morning, nor is a quiet evening in a desirable way to spend a Saturday night. Thus, on the rare weekends when I am not too hungover to move (and sometimes even on those when I am) I take myself off for a dose of culture. Sundays are often quite busy for me, as I realise that I’m going to have to wait another whole five days for a free one, and consequently pack as much activity into my final few hours of freedom as possible.

Today, my adventure took me to the Saatchi Gallery. It’s not a particularly long walk from my home, although I did predictably manage to get lost amongst the white streets of Pimlico on the way. I must admit I was very much enticed in by the title of the exhibition: The Empire Strikes Back, and with more shame admit that I was too skint to buy the £1.50 guide. As such, I didn’t really have a clue what it was all about. I’ve never been much interested in Indian culture – being half Chinese I didn’t feel like I had a lot of room for any other Asian influences. There was one particularly disturbing exhibit where a stuffed camel was, well, stuffed into a suitcase.

I liked the gallery nonetheless, and followed it up with a visit to the V&A, where I looked at a little display of fairytale illustrations, including some by Dulac and Rackham. I also wandered into the cast courts. The first time I visited the cast courts I was with a guy with whom I was utterly besotted; it was quite a relief to be able to look at them without such a distraction.