It is Sunday, and Kate brought me tea as she has done every morning I've been here, except for the day she ran out of it. Who could ask for a better hostess. Now, if only I could bottle her and take her home. the weather looks a bit drab and dreary today. Might put a damper on the trip to Brighton. I guess I shall find out. When I called home last night both dad and mom got on and talked to me.
Kate and I have just returned from breakfast together at a french cafe 15 minutes further down the road, on St. Paul's Road. I had coffee, salmon, and scrambled eggs on toast with a croissant and double espresso. My head is spinning a bit now, but no bother. I'm on my way to the Tate Gallery. Kate's doing her washing up and then sitting in all day, clearing her head after too many drinks and a long night out. A full English fried breakfast and tea will hopefully sort her head out.
Today I went to the Tate Gallery, now called Tate Britain, in a new building on the south bank area, near Pimlico. The building was very nice, and I saw many old favourites as well as some newer works that were wonderful. I saw lots of Rossetti, Millais, Turner, Constable, Burne-Jones, Waterhouse, and I loved the way they were arranged. Still definitely my favourite gallery.
Tonight I made pesto pizza, and we watched the movie "America's Sweethearts" and a miniseries of Dr. Zivago.