So did our blogsworth sit upon his crestfallen hands this sunny summer’s afternoon and pine away the hours with heavy heart? He did not. He lunched heartily upon herring in an exquisite mango and peppercorn sauce, with a side of lettuce firm to the bite and a modest helping of potatoes, fresh and tender on the palate. Whereupon with feet shod in his dear DMs, he capered down to the tracks and rode the railway all the way into London town.
Dislodging from the Tube at Lancaster Gate, he strolled into the sumptuous grounds of Hyde Park and struck out in the direction of the Old Magazine, home now, and proudly so, to the wonderful Sackler Gallery.
En route he could not fail to admire the ornate Italian Gardens, which in 1860 had been commissioned by Prince Albert as an adoring gesture of love for his beloved Queen Vic. Our hero’s heart sank a little!
But next, a majestic white swan on the lake rode beside him and led him on, and on, until he passed The Arch, a 6-metre sculpture by Henry Moore: created in 1978, from Roman travertine marble, it recalls the towering stone blocks of Stonehenge or the triumphal arches of antiquity. To think that it had been inspired by a mere fragment of bone the size of a small bird, made our hero think.
And so finally on to the Sackler Gallery, to take in the very different but equally remarkable sculptures by American artist, Duane Hanson, on exhibition until 13 September, more of which on the morrow.
That evening, as he lay beneath his duvet, one eye about to follow the other into the depths of sleep, he sensed a sudden chill. Temperature falling? Hell freezing over? Who could say? He would die an unrecovered optimist!