Homegoing

July 20, 2011

Visited my old friends at the Tate Britain, adding this time the Vorticists in an outstanding and strangely nostalgic exhibition. I studied Pound so much it was as if I knew everybody, and missed everybody. Hiked back from the Tate, stopping at King James’ banqueting hall, the remnant of Whitehall, which I had missed on all previous visits. By evening I went to the premiere of Journey’s End at the Duke of York’s. It was too British and too sentimental for my taste, but I wish it well. The driver this morning offered to drive me to Gatwick, and though I already had my ticket for the Express, I took him up on it, and Paul the beautiful-voiced Romanian drove me through the dark city to the airport for the last of my pounds. My precautions about getting up early for the airport were pointless, as I arrive and am told the plane won’t depart until after 2:40 PM– the scheduled time having been 9:40 AM. No explanations yet, as they cannily send to the information booths people who have no information.