Considering I’m lazy and ill this wonderfully ordinary Tuesday evening, this is about to be a bit of a random one. But do not fret! I have a way of rambling my way toward better things. Tomorrow I’m shockingly going to roll out of bed, hit the gym, and then (hopefully) at some point attend the Rembrandt exhibition at the National Gallery. I am super excited about this, and you should be, too. It’s kind of a big deal.
I will then (hopefully) also write a long, semi-educational Rembrandt post that will mainly consist of swooning and mourning the death of real painting, so please prepare yourselves. It’s not like his late work is a bundle of fun (he eventually became rather poor and rather sad); I’m expecting some remarkably gloomy self portraits, the frequently criticised slapdash style of his late career, and lots and lots of feelings.
Other than that, I did a small dose of amorphous pondering on what I’d like for Christmas (strictly material), and my top four options are as follows:
- A town membership for the London Riding Cub
- This pink Swedish castle that just went up on the market
- A subscription to The Spectator (long overdue)
- An antique dressing table. Because why the hell not.
Donations (in transfer/check/cash/solid gold/property) are very, very welcome..