Friday 9 February 2018

When we are born.....

....we cry that we are come to this great stage of fools....

Wise words indeed....and its the annual pilgrimage to the Globe...so it must be August....the heat of the British summer...crack you cheeks with laughter and merriment about that....

Off to King Lear....Dads favourite Shakespeare....a grande affair about a mad old man....beginning to reflect in Dad to be honest but don't tell him I said so...but heres a fine example...

...whos finger is that over the lens...?

 As you can see it was a nice sunny day....ideal for a tragedy...

                                    'Nothing will come of nothing.....speak again.....'

When it comes to culture heres a place I wont be recommending unless you want a laugh at 1: the...er....art on offer....and 2: the descriptions of said, supposed, art....

....Tate Modern...

The only thing usually going for this place is the installations in the engine hall, mostly because if you've got enough of an imagination to think of a piece of art(?) to fill it, it can be impressive...well...most of the time I guess...not always...some times its just a big pile like the rest of the stuff in there....

Shaft...er...Shard...complete...

Shard....bit missing....like Dad....

                                        'Who is it that can tell me who I am.....?'

...Walkie-talkie thingy and other stuff...

The Globe....in we go....

                        ....'we that are young Shall never see so much, nor live so long.....'


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