Exhaustimicated!

It was holiday Monday and I woke up too early. I read a few papers…….why? Rosemary got up with just enough time for breakfast and then we headed along the cycle path to the National Gallery of Modern Art to meet the Weetman’s. Rosemary was complaining because she was too hot and I was complaining because my jeans were too tight for riding a bike in. Fortunately, we missed the rain and arrived only 5 minutes late.
 
The Weetman’s had expected us to be later. It seems to be a consistent thing with Rosemary. I say nuthing! It’s been a while since I’ve been at this gallery. Ian was heading to Germany on a school trip in the afternoon so we had just over an hour to look round. I resisted asking to go to see the Pablo Picarsehole paintings as there were children present, but did manage to explain cubism to Rosemary.
 
Ian was matter of fact in his agreement that the ‘propeller’ was rotating in the wrong directing when Robert pointed it out. I was matter of fact when pointing out to Robert that it was an impeller as nothing was being propelled. Even though I have a Ph.D. trying to keep up with the Weetman’s in geeky intelligence is challenging.
 
The top floor exhibition was incredibly surreal. I forget the name of the artist but the baby club was freaky. Members were cult like parents who were trying to be Bohemian but failing miserably. Their clothes were simply too expensive and skin textures were of Photoshop pristineness! The babies were also dressed immaculately, none were crying and all were transfixed, smiling at the abstract art without the pain of having green pooh in their cashmere nappies.   
 
On our way out I saw a couple, the lady wearing a mohair shawl and pink lipstick and her husband had a little beard and tortoise shell glasses. “There are people you only see in art galleries” I said to Robert, with him laughing in agreement. Haley was with Ben at reception, starting to panic that they had lost us. We must have been in a dark gallery when they had come looking, as we’d taken a conventional path round.
 
We walked into Stockbridge, via the Water of Leith path, for lunch. I don’t know the name of the café that we went to but it was good. That was apart from my posh toastie of ‘Stockbridge ladies who lunch’ proportion! It was miniscule! I fancied a wander round the charity shops but we didn’t have time……Haley headed off home with Ian as they had to get to the airport. Robert, Rosemary, Ben and I popped into Peter’s Yard to get bread, avoiding the worst of a hailstorm and then back along the river. We watched a mummy mallard with about 10 ducklings on the river which was fun! Ben became abstract, talking about the cross-breeding of sausage dogs to alleviate their inherent back problems. It started to get too difficult so I suggested it would be funny if you crossed a sausage dog with a giraffe! The intention was not to talk of the practicalities of copulation between each and somehow the conversation was diverted sufficiently to be appropriate for a 12 year old!
 

We picked the bikes up and then walked up to the bike shop as I had  a set of cranks to pick up for my Brompton and we said our goodbyes to Robert and Ben. I was exhausted when we got home and Rosemary picked up that I had gone my ‘overly tired funny way’. After dinner and a wee snooze, it was off to the Commie Pool for my coaching sesh! Nowt like an easy day off!