Trying out Phil's preference for busses, we bussed over to the V & A (Victoria and Albert Museum, to you non-cognoscenti), model for the Museum in A. S. Byatt's great new novel 'The Children's Hour'. We passed the gate to the Mall at Trafalgar Square, peeking down the row of flags all set for the next day's wedding. Nice.
At the V&A, we encountered lots of sculpture and were impressed by the billowy drapery of this Bernini, defining Baroque. We took in the special exhibit on the Aesthetic Movement (1860 – 1900). (no photos allowed: buy our book.)
We came away with a new appreciation of James McNeil Whistler and some new finds from the era. Britain as a whole has contributed very little to the advancement of art, stodgy for the most part, but this represented a true wedge toward the modern (which you may have noted, Gail and I admire).
We sat for a spell with some tea in the courtyard watching folks of all stripe taking pictures of each other in front of the 1899 facade, a perfect example of stodgy. We stayed until closing time, scooting up for Jim to see some silverware. This marvelous reliquary – a place to store the remains of a Saint, or what is reputed to be so – was an electroformed, and therefore exact, replica of one in Germany.
This end panel shows a splendid boat in storm, with the reliquary itself floating between the waves – now that's post modern! The inset shows a chalice very much the model for ones that Jim made and repaired in his two years as manager of an ecclesiastical silver plant (bet you didn't know that).
We ended the day with a stroll in the direction, though not the exact path, that being clogged already, of tomorrow's cavalcade from Buckingham to the Abby, across from Parliament and this tall clock. As we listened to the crane-hung array of 37 speakers above the Abby broadcast what may have been a live choir performance, we watched the rapt crowd.
Trying out Phil's preference for busses, we bussed over to the V & A (Victoria and Albert Museum, to you non-cognoscenti), model for the Museum in A. S. Byatt's great new novel 'The Children's Hour'. We passed the gate to the Mall at Trafalgar Square, peeking down the row of flags all set for the next day's wedding. Nice. 
At the V&A, we encountered lots of sculpture and were impressed by the billowy drapery of this Bernini, defining Baroque. We took in the special exhibit on the Aesthetic Movement (1860 – 1900). (no photos allowed: buy our book.)
We came away with a new appreciation of James McNeil Whistler and some new finds from the era. Britain as a whole has contributed very little to the advancement of art, stodgy for the most part, but this represented a true wedge toward the modern (which you may have noted, Gail and I admire). 
We sat for a spell with some tea in the courtyard watching folks of all stripe taking pictures of each other in front of the 1899 facade, a perfect example of stodgy. We stayed until closing time, scooting up for Jim to see some silverware. This marvelous reliquary – a place to store the remains of a Saint, or what is reputed to be so – was an electroformed, and therefore exact, replica of one in Germany.
This end panel shows a splendid boat in storm, with the reliquary itself floating between the waves – now that's post modern! The inset shows a chalice very much the model for ones that Jim made and repaired in his two years as manager of an ecclesiastical silver plant (bet you didn't know that). 
We ended the day with a stroll in the direction, though not the exact path, that being clogged already, of tomorrow's cavalcade from Buckingham to the Abby, across from Parliament and this tall clock. As we listened to the crane-hung array of 37 speakers above the Abby broadcast what may have been a live choir performance, we watched the rapt crowd.
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