Wednesday, April 04, 2012
Afterwards we went to the supremely tatty Pavilion, which I have never been to in spite of living there for years. I actually started at the Art College the year after a young art student set it on fire: '1975', said the lady who sold us the tickets. It reminded me of the old Louis Tussauds Waxworks, where all the waxworks had very thin legs, especially Jimmy Savile- looked like they had been made of coat-hanger wire. Some friends nicked Alf Garnett's head and kept it in their bedroom for the rest of time.
Inside the Pavilion, thin wires visibly held things in place and some exhibits seemed rather dusty. We loved the palm-tree painting on the ceiling of the dining room, and the kitchen full of huge copper pots and a threadbare stuffed rat too. Funnily enough, our favourite was the little stairs that led to the servants' quarters, painted dark green and red, a Victorian addition that looked the part. And in the room they hire out for weddings, there was a particularly nice wall painting, that was not as crowded out with images as those in other rooms. The carpets were beaut, and finally, the dragons high up on the walls in the music room that seemed to have human faces were a complete inspiration.
I came home on the slowest train in the world and now I am going to start rehearsing for the tour. The Daintees are up in Glasga doing just that and I have an evening to myself (Offsprog Two has gone out) to flex my fingers.
I took delivery of a pile of Cafe of Tiny Kindnesses CDs yesterday....