As we returned back to Charing Cross and sat down on our train Leyla suddenly turned to me eyes wide open, startled at a sudden realisation "Mum, I didn't have a tantrum!"
Me "shit! get off the train there's still time"
Oh there was PLENTY of opportunity, the lack of decent places to eat, that I would not give her my camera, that I said no to a ridiculous sequined t-shirt in Zara, each flash point bubbled for a while and died. Oh please dear God let her have grown up at last.
The show was very mediocre, but was saved by a little bit of people watching and an amazing instillation in a room downstairs by Richard Wilson essentially a room filled with old sump oil. At first you think it is a room reflected by glass, then the smell gives it away and you realise that it is a room half filled with old sump oil that sits so still the reflection merges with reality. It is worth a trip.
Although I love the gallery it sits in an area devoid of anywhere to have a quick bite for lunch, whilst Soho and Fitzrovia are rich with bars and cafes Sloane Square has virtually none. Gone is Oriel, an old haunt that served the Freeholder a very poor meal and subsequently had its leasehold revoked!
The Royal Court was closed, The Botanist is too expensive, I hate Patisserie Valerie, I am sick of Pizza Express and a local cafe was serving a burger for nearly £14, seriously, I could go anywhere else and eat steak for that price. All the lovely local Italians have gone, it is now an arid desert food wise.
In the end we, like loads of other local families ended up in MacDonald's!