You'd be hard pushed to spend two hours getting from The National Gallery to Liverpool Street, even if you walked there with my Grandma and had given her a smartphone as only means of directing. That's exactly why I didn't do that, and opted instead for National Portrait Gallery Thursday lates in between work at the National Gallery and my netball match.
There's a lovely atmosphere in the NPG of a Thursday night. Dimmed lights, live DJ and, if you don't have to play sport in an hours time, drinks.
Instead, I pottered around the Victorian galleries and (badly) sketched G.F. Watts portrait of his friend and colleague, William Morris.
We lost at netball even though the other team were a man down. May as well have had a cocktail. Next time, I will.
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