Not Just A Good Friday, A Great Friday

It's been a funny few weeks - bit full on, busy busy, lot on the mind - you know the Life score. Easter's here and now work's aside, I get to kick back in this baking sun. Or not, as bunting season is upon us, and I can't chuck that triangular shit out fast enough. So, although I should be sat in the park with my newspaper, I had to stay inside and sew. Sew a lot. I'm even getting grief from pals, suggesting I should stop "dicking about" and get on with the bunting. "Dicking about" is now the phrase du jour - a couple of us should know, we're masters of it.

I popped into POP to see Blondie today - it was lovely to see her, and we had a good old chinwag. Not seen much of my top woman recently, so we're bringing on the heavy with Sweden's finest this coming Wednesday, Graveyard are in town. Thank you, Lord in Heaven, for handsome heavy mercies (but please don't fuck my hearing up, boys).

Met up with a couple of The Ladies at The National Portrait Gallery this evening. Everyone knows this is my favourite gallery in London. My love of portraiture goes way back, but one of my perfect moments in this building has to be when my beloved boss and friend, James Day, won the final John Kobal prize. I was thrilled to hear that Lucy Local has moved on to curating the music for the Friday Late Shift evenings at NPG. She's a clever gal, Lucy, and fresh from her stint at the Barbican (and secondment to the Sydney Festival), she's now treating us to a host of superb musicians at the NPG, set amidst some great art.

I was a tiny bit late after my rendezvous with Blondie. A delicious glass of rosé awaited me in the lovely surroundings of the NPG Portrait Restaurant bar - what a view:

Sit with friends, drink booze, look at this. Yes, please.

Then, we popped downstairs to take in a bit of Olivia Chaney. She has a really beautiful voice and when she's joined by one of her gentlemen friends, I hear some truly stunning harmonising. A talented girl, Olivia - you can get the idea here:

http://www.themagpiesnest.co.uk/artists/olivia-chaney

As Olivia played her encore, we sneaked away, so we could enjoy a peaceful last hour or so taking in the Hoppé / Ida Kar exhibitions. This was a no brainer for me - portrait photography rules all, particularly when it captures the spirit of real people going about their everyday lives. My own entry into the professional photography world was in the realm of reportage, and like any first love, it stays dear to my heart.

Both exhibitions thrilled me - Hoppé, for his beautiful lighting, his choice of subject (not the celebrity portraiture - the real folks), and that he wrapped a Kodak Brownie in brown paper (you know I LOVE that) to keep his reportage low-key. Ida Kar for the simple portraits, framed in a timeless way, which really could have been taken merely weeks ago. I suddenly noticed how the bohemian art set of the 40's/50's wore fucking great spectacles. Man Ray, Bertrand Russell, Le Corbusier, Sartre - top frames, fellas.

I discussed this with the Ladies, as I've just taken receipt of my Tatum (Art - jazz dude, y'know) specs from Robert Roope. Robert is a lovely big old teddy of a man, he's an optician in St Albans - completely charming, I met him when, after research on getting specs, I discovered a man who loved jazz so much he'd designed a whole range based on the jazz greats of the 40's / 50's. He sells vintage too - lovely stuff:

http://www.roopevintage.com/

After discovering this, Specsavers just couldn't cut my mustard:

Not Eric Morecambe or Ronnie Corbett

Leaving the NPG, Vik went home to tend to Dr Green, so I introduced Nads to the only place we should head after a skinful of Soho 50's bohemian pics: The French House. I love this place (Dean St, if you're wondering) - the very first place ex-Boss Mr G brought me well over a decade ago, I fell in love with Soho right here (champagne may have had a hand/glass in it). Superb staff, and DO NOT use your mobile phone in here - you'll get chucked out (good rule, this). We had a few wee drinkies and some salty snacks - Leffe rules:

Le Subsist

Ended up on a continental roll on Hanway Street - Hola! On that very same day years ago when Mr G took me to The French House, he later introduced me to a bar with the finest vinyl jukebox, Bradley's Spanish Bar. Where else can you listen to 7" crackly vinyl of Eddie Cochran, Mamas and Papas, Howlin' Wolf, Joy Division and everything brilliant before/after? Whilst sitting on red dralon? With the smell of incense and ammonia from the men's bogs wafting up your nose? And some top ornaments?:

Spanish Cock Y Shire Horse

Heaven. Tonight, we were treated to some superb impromptu spanish guitar. All enhanced by a little San Miguel. We agreed - not just a Good Friday, but a Truly Great Friday.