It ain’t necessarily so

Well where do you think I’ve been? Watching Celebrity Big Brother of course! My favourite quote of the series – Shilpa to Jade: “Patronising is the wrong word sweetie!" followed by Jack to Dirk: “Wots patronising mean?” All I can say is I'm almost certain that it’s all done in the best passsible taste.

So look at me, working my fingers to the bone with this student business. Ahem. Well, I am being fairly seriously studious, maintaining a strict 8.30-6.30 study day, with the occasional break for a sponge finger. Let me work backwards and see how far I get recalling what I’ve been up to.

Last night H and I went to see Porgy and Bess at the Savoy Theatre. What a show. I love a bit of Gershwin, but this whole production is incredibly well-staged and what an amazing cast. I had a tear in my eye on more than one occasion and it wasn’t because I was sitting near the air-conditioning. I loves ya Porgy.

Day before that I spent studying at home. Day before that was Tuesday and I went into town to join the Warburg Library. This is now the fifth library I’ve joined since October – it’s a hard habit to break. It was somewhat musty, a tad dusty, and the librarian wasn’t at all busty so nobody got lusty. As it turned out my brain had gone rusty. Outside it was gusty. That’s quite enough of that thank you. After about three hours of struggling with dry, brain-numbing descriptions of the Counter Reformation, I walked dejectedly to Birkbeck and scooped up some more rather dull-looking tomes and made my weary way homeward.

Went to the photography exhibition called In the Face of History: European Photographers in the 20th Century on Saturday avec J. What a whopper. It would have taken at least a whole day to have done it all justice. By 4pm we were ready for sharpener and headed off to Chalk Farm for a pint of Rioja in the company of Chris Moyles and Jon Culshaw amongst other people who should be safely locked inside the CBB house in Elstree by rights. Before the photography exhibition, we checked out the Richard Wilson installation called Pile Up consisting of Trailer Trash, Hot Dog Roll (Alright Neville) and Meter’s Running. Photos didn’t turn out so hot, but you get the idea?

Day before that I went to Birmingham upon a train. I had to be at the Barber Institute by 11.30am and it was a bit of a trek. Still, made it there in time for a milk chocolate digestive and a tour – there’s a wonderful gallery there with examples of work by Bellini, Rubens, Tintoretto, Van Dyke, Cuyp, Steen, Gainsborough, Turner, Ruisdael, Manet, Dalacroix, Rousseau, Degas, Courbet, Corot, Millet, Whistler, Rossetti, Toulouse-Lautrec, Renoir, Van Gogh, Bonnard, Sickert, Magritte, Gauguin, Ingres, Monet, Derain…to name but a few. I could have stayed there all day – but no – we had to push on to the Birmingham Art Gallery. My travelling companion fancied fish and chips, but there wasn’t really enough time, and we ended up stuffing it down in three minutes and running into the gallery with bits of batter stuck to our faces and scorched palates.

I’ve been here before, and it’s a treasure house of Pre-Raphaelite art. Oh they're all there (when they're not on loan) although it gets a bit confusing because most of the PRB masterpieces were painted more than once, so I often think I’ve seen this before somewhere else – and I’m probably right. But there you go. Back on the train and home in time for Shilpa.

Started my new module last week – The Art of Persuasion – which is all about the debates surrounding religious imagery from the Renaissance to the Baroque. It’s a lot more interesting than it sounds – honest guv. I am going to be giving a presentation on the Martyrdom Cycles in a few weeks – so standby to hear all about that – being boiled alive, that kind of thing. Nice.

Oh - nearly forgot - spent a morning whizzing down the slides at Tate Modern again last week - well it is art afterall. And it's free. Then went to the David Hockney portrait exhibiton at the NPG which is superb. Spent a fine evening in a most excellent pub in Kennington to boot. All splendid.

That’s enough about me. Tell me about you.