Tea at Tate Modern

Half an hour early to meet David Driver and see the Cildo Meireles, I go upstairs to the members room where mothers are chatting and children sulking.

I hope the little girl got to see the Meireles exhibition as that would alleviate her boredom.
We found ourselves walking on broken glass, having our vision distorted by a room totally furnished with red objects and disturbed by a room filled with gas and punctuated by a naked flame.

And then there was the Tower of Babel made from radios.

Quite a lot to think about in one afternoon.