The Wasteland

The modern Barbican’s history is firmly rooted in post second world war reconstruction, and its name origins - the Latin word for a fortress - are appropriate for a brutalist style of architecture. I like it. Its Blake’s Seven meets Clockwork Orange, both exciting and vaguely SyFy whilst being forbidding and grim. You half expect to see a Cyberman stomping up the steps (although it would probably get lost before it managed to attack you, the place is a warren of levels and walkways).

As for the rest:

I was in London for a rather turgid workshop on preparing your NHS annual report. The NHS is still decidedly Stalinist when it comes to things like this. “You will describe the number of shoes produced by your local collective using exact number, by colour and size. This is a requirement. The local Commissar will sign each page in red pen”. That kind of thing, only given that it is the NHS it is all about performance statistics and budgets. The guidance manual is longer than any report ever written.

London was cold with Easterly winds in the alleyways and narrow streets, but I succeeded in my mission of buying Smoked Salmon bacon in Whole Foods. If you’ve never had it, I can tell you it’s simply awesome. I bought six packets.

Tired tonight. Too much pavement pounding in the smoke …