The virus I've been suffering with returned with a vengeance yesterday, and I decided on a 'day out' - resting and trying to get myself fit again. Time wasn't completely wasted though as I caught up with some TV programmes that had been languishing on the record setting of the digibox for far longer than they should.
And so it was that I spent a very pleasant afternoon with Fiona Bruce exploring the works of Leonardo Da Vinci. The upshot of this was that I persuaded Mountain Man that we absolutely had to go to the exhibition of Leonardo's work, which starts at the National Gallery today, when we head for London for our annual Xmas family 'do' next month. The only problem was there were no tickets to be had. MM wasn't all that disappointed so I decided that when I go down in February for a meeting I'll go then instead, which means that MM and I won't be queuing for tickets in December, for which I think he's mightily relieved. Luckily there were still tickets left for the last day of the exhibition and I'm all booked in.
This led me to remember an event at the National a while back. I was walking through the gallery and came across a painting by Bronzino. I couldn't believe it as it looked very like my son when he was about 16. I was stunned by the experience. The memory sparked a story, and so the rest of my afternoon was spent writing for a competition. I'm quite pleased with the result... the writing that is, not necessarily the story, but I'll send it off anyway once I've had a chance to let it settle for a day or two and have had time to do redrafting and corrections.
I felt quite pleased with myself at the end of the day. Not a huge amount achieved, but at least I achieved something.
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