The view from here

Emin has man flu, of course that's just an excuse to snore all bloody night and eat rubbish. Last night he was fumbling around the kitchen searching for food, he managed to burn two lots of toast before dropping a box of a dozen eggs on the floor, much to the dogs delight. Even then he persevered until he went to soften the butter in the microwave and forgot, melting the entire block! He marched out of the house declaring he was off to McDonald's, Leyla begged him to get her a burger but he declared what was good for him was most defiantly not good for her. I then cooked her a chicken burger and just as I was ranting, calling I'm a self centered wanker he walked through the door with a pizza. Leyla took great delight in telling him I called him a wanker, he was way to tired to answer back. Last night, no joke I caught him googling the symptoms of Pneumonia! what a sap.
I am still undecided as to whether Monday was an unmitigated disaster or a brilliant stroke of luck.
I left school bright and early to go to a curators talk at the Tate Britain, the last two talks I've been to have been really very inspiring, so what could go wrong? Picasso and British artists, it sounded great. My intention was to get some face cream before I went as I'm close to the dregs and forgot to top up at the airport. I get the train to Victoria which is THE windiest place on earth, and I am blown down the road before getting seduced by the windows of Zara.
Kitty has given up on Zara, as well as H&M, having worked in retail she has become very fussy with fabric and both of those places sell cheap synthetic fabrics. GAP are great for jeans but their jersey needs hand washing, making it very high maintenance. I have introduced her to COS and so yesterday she went and bought two more tops from there. It has been interesting see the retail world from here point of view, I struggle to get clothes large enough she struggles to find them small enough!
So Zara, great trousers coupled with the worst service anywhere in London, really the very worst.
Walking into House of Fraser to buy some Clinique I was met by hoards of bored listless sales staff, I couldn't face trying to battle past them so gave up and walked to the Tate.
The walk through suburban streets is lovely and I was hoping to grab my ticket and whip round the exhibition before the talk. Draconian jobsworths prevented that so I went and looked around the new contemporary exhibition instead. It is brilliantly curated but what is sad is that being at Tate Britain rather than Modern means not that many people see it. From that one quick walk around I was able to garner my thoughts and plan an 8 week A' Level Fine Art syllabus. That was the good.
The bad was the appalling talk I PAID for, that was basically a PowerPoint of all the Picasso paintings they did not get for the show, coupled with the raging mediocrity of British painting. It was so bad and poorly delivered too.
The only British artist that could hold his own and then some was Henry Moore, the juxtaposition of Moore's work with Picasso's painting was brilliant and beautifully curated. During the talk someone asked why there were no female painters represented. The answer was none had met and been inspired by him, what he should have said is why would any women be inspired by such controlling misogynist? They had too much sense. The idea of pastiching Picasso seemed to be a man thing!