“Nevertheless,” Kathleen said, “and in spite of everything, I still do love you.” Not forty seconds ago she said this, concluding a discussion of last night’s late hours. I argued that she was a wicked enchantress who would stop at nothing to raise topics of interest in the wee hours; never mind what she claimed. I do know that it was not I who began, at midnight, to tabulate the locations of all the Vermeers in the world. On the other hand, it was I who brought out the London A-Z to establish where, exactly, St Pancras Station stands in relation to everything else. (Far from, just as I thought.) Don’t be surprised when I confess that we slept through our flight to Heathrow.

I want to see The Mousetrap, with an unidentified cast. The show has been running since the year before Kathleen was born — how bad can it be? Kathleen wants to see Hay Fever, with Lindsay Duncan and Jeremy Northam. So do I, but not so much. The idea of seeing Hay Fever in the West End reminds me of seeing Deborah Carr as Candida in 1977, which I actually did. It is possible to be too authentic.

Now I am off to the Museum, for a Far Corners tour of the Wing That Used to be Islamic and the wing that is still American. First, my old law school classmate and I will have lunch — her treat. When she complained about my paying for brunch on Sunday, I laughed and allowed that I would let her take me to the cafeteria at the Museum. Upon reflection, I became more generous, and arranged to meet at the Petrie Court.  

***

Wherever the Vermeers are, they’re not where they belong. The Sleeping Maid is hanging more or less in the right place, but the other four are AWOL. Serves me right.

Drop me a line at rjk@dailyblague.com
This entry was posted on Tuesday, May 1st, 2012 at 9:47 am.