Yesterday we took a trip to the seaside. People who aren’t working can do these things in the middle of the week. It seemed like a good idea but when we disembarked at Margate and took in the grey sea, misty sky, seafront lined with the usual depressing amusement arcades, and 7 degree drop in temperature, we thought ‘we left London for this?’
We had a good time though. We stayed overnight in a very odd hotel and ‘living museum’ which in anybody else’s language is a hotel in which nobody has cleared anything away for 80-odd years.
We also went to the Tracey Emin exhibition at the new Turner Contemporary. I enjoyed it but B was less impressed. Emin isn’t really his thing and that’s fair enough – unmade beds and used tampons as art aren’t for everyone.
We had a very nice seafood dinner last night, B looking lovely in a shirt I bought for his birthday (below) and his grey hat. I’ve been half hoping that someone will say ‘no hats in here please sir’ and he’ll whip it off, to their consternation and horror. But it’s Margate – he could go shirtless in most restaurants and nobody would raise an eyebrow.
B’s speech is improving day by day. It’s a slow process. Some things he can say without any difficulty, but other words are a challenge. Sometimes he will struggle and struggle to say something, and due to the amount of effort I’ll be standing there in anticipation, expecting something critical or profound, but it will turn out to be ‘we need milk’. Which is disappointing for all concerned.
Here’s B at the seaside.