Yesterday I headed off to Fournier Street - probably my favourite street in London - where there is a tiny exhibition of Angie Lewin prints (until Saturday) in the studio behind this lovely Georgian house. And eventually the penny dropped that I was chatting to Angie Lewin herself who is staying over the shop. (I'm going to have to treat myself one day. To one of her prints. And to a weekend in Spitalfields.)
When I ventured down the stairs - go carefully! - I discovered that the kitchen had been converted into a little tearoom since my last visit. I didn't indulge because I'd already treated myself to one of the best Eccles cakes in London just around the corner.
Plan A was to head on to Tate Modern to see Matisse, but I realised I'd left it a bit late so instead I strolled down to Brick Lane, bought my favourite yogurt here, admired the street art - I'm always thrilled when I come across one of Roa's animals because I never remember quite where they are - walked as far as the church they use in Rev - I've never been inside - then sat for a while with my book by the Arnold Circus bandstand.
When I got home, it took me a while mentally to defrock Rev and accept him as Dylan Thomas.