July 7, 2010
I love the International Herald Tribune! I love it! I want to grab it and crumple it and wave it around and chew on it and pull pages across my face! Oooooh I just want to roll around on it for days!
July 8, 2010
Mommy says that she would rather be set on fire than walk down the South Bank during tourist season again. I suspect she is exaggerating, but the crowds were pretty awful. And there were mimes everywhere! A woman in a blue dress was frozen in a tango pose. And a man with shaggy hair dressed like a policeman taunted children. And a shrieking teenage girl woke me up from a very comfy nap, which upset me. I couldn't get back to sleep after that. And Mommy was pissed because no one would help her carry the pram up and down stairs. She had to do it all herself. Using words I am probably not supposed to be learning.
We finally made it to the Tate Modern, where I just had time to suck down a bottle and get changed before it was almost time to head home again. “Home” being our current hotel room. This is our smallest yet, I think! Mommy keeps tripping over things and knocking stuff over and then making interesting exclamations.
So we only took one quick look around the permanent exhibit. I was a little disturbed by one sculpture by Mona somebody that used a baby's crib to create a torture device. This is the kind of thing that could give me nightmares.
I love the International Herald Tribune! I love it! I want to grab it and crumple it and wave it around and chew on it and pull pages across my face! Oooooh I just want to roll around on it for days!
July 8, 2010
Mommy says that she would rather be set on fire than walk down the South Bank during tourist season again. I suspect she is exaggerating, but the crowds were pretty awful. And there were mimes everywhere! A woman in a blue dress was frozen in a tango pose. And a man with shaggy hair dressed like a policeman taunted children. And a shrieking teenage girl woke me up from a very comfy nap, which upset me. I couldn't get back to sleep after that. And Mommy was pissed because no one would help her carry the pram up and down stairs. She had to do it all herself. Using words I am probably not supposed to be learning.
We finally made it to the Tate Modern, where I just had time to suck down a bottle and get changed before it was almost time to head home again. “Home” being our current hotel room. This is our smallest yet, I think! Mommy keeps tripping over things and knocking stuff over and then making interesting exclamations.
So we only took one quick look around the permanent exhibit. I was a little disturbed by one sculpture by Mona somebody that used a baby's crib to create a torture device. This is the kind of thing that could give me nightmares.
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