On Thursday I pretended to be a lady of leisure, and met my lovely friend K for a late, boozy lunch at the Rex Whistler restaurant at Tate Britain. After a gentle meander around the Millais exhibition, I went down to the cafe and we were ushered into the beautiful room of the restaurant - murals all round, great food, and a very, very good way of wiling away the best part of an afternoon talking about boys (turns out we fancy the same ones, and emotional fuckwits generally. great...). I love hanging around with K. We followed it up with some shopping at the bizarre Army and Navy on Victoria St, whose only saving grace is the cafe at the top, which is good for hiding in. Still, shopping when a bit pissed is never that smart, and I now have a rather expensive jacket that B and J both agreed was 'overpriced and too many buttons'. hey ho. I'll just have to return it and buy something else...The plan was to continue into the evening but for various reasons that didn't happen. So instead I headed off for more culture - this time a beautiful concert at St John's Smith Square (wicked) - carols and a bunch of Christmas music which was brilliant. All performed by Chantage, apparently the BBC Choir of the Year 2006, but to be honest even typing that makes me feel about 50. As my date put it - 'carol singing - karaoke for the middle classes'. Still, I sung my heart out, melted at the organ playing, and went home happy, and thinking I could get used to doing nothing very much with my time.
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