A Bed of Roses

Out in the morning to the Gallery of Modern Art at Belford, via Saughton, as there’s the latest Now exhibition on, which sadly has very little Charles Avery (he was the draw) but some ok stuff from Anya Gallaccio who I will now name check when the art school boss man comes a-visiting. Unless I can wangle him round to talk about football.
And later we went to the pub. The same pish as usual was talked, but not for as long as usual, or with the same intensity. Well, I wasn’t there long enough. I didn’t even get a decent photo which is no surprise as they’re an unphotogenic collection of old freaks. Longer next time, dudes. And sooner too as I don’t want to forget your names.