While Jacob went out partying with his friends, John and I once again surrounded ourselves with weird stuff. …butterflies flew around our heads while flies flew around a severed cows he. We walked between a sawn in two old cow ( not me -it wasn’t audience partcipation ) and a sheep, looked down a sharks throat and then went down a flight of stairs and ended up in fairyland ,where we both became part of the most beautiful infinite twinkly thing – and that was before a few glasses of white ,drunk while gazing out over one of the most stunning views of London-St Paul’s Cathedral. Yes ,we returned to the Damien Hirst and Yayoi Kusama exhibitions .Secretly ,I wanted to hate his stuff cos I find him an arrogant self-opinionated old bore , But actually I quite liked a lot of it( loathed the cigarettes ), and some of it i found was painfully beautiful.
Mind you it helped we were allowed in.We got there and I’d left my Tate Members Card in my other bag .The very nice man gave us a temporary card and off we toddled just happy to be there – the place suddenly took on a rosy-glow. This alone wouldn’t be so bad ,but on Friday night , just before leaving ,I took the envelope containing the tickets for Babel out of my bag , threw it and all the extra bits away …except I hadn’t …when we got there ,I realised I’d actually thrown the tickets away and just had the credit card receipt for unreserved seating – I felt sick . I spoke to the lovely man at the box office ,told him how I felt ,and I think he was so worried about me projectile vomiting though his hatch , he gave me new ones .Two nights and two lovely men