Caravaggio and Hills of California

This morning we met Andrew for breakfast at our old favourite, The Two Magpies and had a very pleasant catch up with him. He’s on holiday this week which is why he was free. Like Ally and Cat he is enjoying his life in London to the max, and when he’s not working he goes to art galleries and museums, attends concerts, travels into the countryside to go for walks, and of course socialises with his friends. Andrew went off to go for a run and James and I made our way into the city where we went to the National Gallery to the Last Caravaggio exhibition. It’s a very small exhibition, comprising only two paintings, the titular one being The Martyrdom of St Ursula (the other one is Salome receives the head of John the Baptist which we have already seen) and the letter authenticating the St Ursula painting. James wasn’t convinced that the letter was absolute proof and I could see what he meant, however it did imply it pretty strongly. The light was very dim so as not to damage the paintings, which as well as the tragic subject matter lent a gloomy air to proceedings. The St Ursula painting was, in my opinion, well composed and suitably shocking - the arrow, shot at point blank range, was already so deeply embedded in her chest that you could only see the feathers protruding as St Ursula looked down almost in surprise. However the brush strokes were rough and the painting was not as finely detailed as his others. Maybe this was because his health was deteriorating towards the end of his short life. 

Back in the hot sunlight we walked to St James’ Square to cool down a bit before going for a pleasant late afternoon stroll around St James’ Park. It was hooching! Tourists, locals, guided walking tours, parents with small children, were all out enjoying the fantastic weather. And there was so much wildlife; geese and goslings, ducks and ducklings, pelicans and squirrels. There were parakeets flying around in the trees, which are now commonplace in London and can even be seen in some areas of Glasgow. I presume that this is due to global warming. 

We had dinner in the Roma Restaurant (perfectly adequate) just five minutes from the Harold Pinter Theatre, where we then went to see the Sam Mendes / Jez Butterworth production “The Hills of California.” Our theatre chums Gordon, Sheena and Peter were there too and we met up at the interval and at the end to discuss the play. It is one of those thought-provoking plays that will stay in my head for a while. Four sisters meet up at their mother’s deathbed in Blackpool during the heatwave of 1976. In the course of the play the sisters’ back story is gradually revealed. It was both funny and sad, but ultimately I found some of the plot to be a bit unlikely. It was good, but not as good as Jerusalem.