I wrote this post in an earlier now defunct blog, but make no apologies for reviving it here a few years later, mainly because I like the random interconnections:-
I enjoy my weekly drawing class. It’s held near the Old Vic, where Rebecca Hall crossed the road in full view of her own audience and they didn’t see her (apart from me); it’s near the General Lying-in Hospital (founded 1767) where my mother was born in 1919; it’s apparently near to the site of the Magdalen Hospital for Penitent Prostitutes; it’s not that far from the various haunts of the young Charlie Chaplin; it’s also near the fairly hideous St George’s, the RC cathedral for the Southwark diocese, where I went to be interviewed by a world-weary Irish catholic priest as part of my first wife’s decision to cap our civil divorce with a Declaration of Nullity, even though we had not been married in a catholic church, she wasn’t a even a catholic when we’d got married, and she had no plans to marry in the Church or anywhere else*; and it’s near Lambeth Walk, where one would have to strain very hard now to hear the song:-
- ‘Any time you’re Lambeth way
- Any evening, and day,
- You’ll find us all
- Doin’ the Lambeth Walk.
- Every little Lambeth gal,
- With her little Lambeth pal,
- You’ll find ’em all
- Doin’ the Lambeth walk.
- Everything’s free and easy,
- Do as you darn well pleasey,
- Why don’t you make your way there,
- Go there, stay there.
- Once you get down Lambeth way,
- Every evening, every day,
- You’ll find yourself
- Doin’ the Lambeth walk….Oi!’
I thought the song was an old one, but discovered it was written in 1937 for a stage musical, becoming a huge international hit, and that it was condemned by the Nazis a few years later on the grounds that it was written by the wrong sort of person.
Today our model was once again the lovely, lithe Andrea whose lack of girly curves makes her rather hard to draw, in my book (a true Artist always blames the model!). But to get at long last to the bottom line, just as I was about to curl up my Andrea collection into a roll and put an elastic band around her slender forms to take home, I experienced an attack by an adjoining easel which launched itself at me sideways, quite unprovoked, leaving me with a spot of mild concussion, as may be evident from the pointlessness of this post.
* A bureaucrat writes: One of the two grounds in canon law on which the allegation of nullity was proceeded with reads as follows:- Grave lack of discretion of judgment concerning the essential matrimonial rights and obligations which are to be mutually given and accepted on the part of the respondent. I stand condemned. I’d forgotten completely about the interview until I went to the first of my classes a few weeks back, and passed the entrance to the ferocious-sounding “Southwark Metropolitan Tribunal” where I had been judged and found so wanting. I also passed the interview. (Did you see what I did there?)