The Fog

The other thing that I did while I was in London yesterday was go to the Anthony Gormley installation at the South Bank Centre - you may have seen it advertised as the thing with all the statues standing on London rooftops, and the room full of fog. I'm not normally into stroking my chin while looking appreciatively at art, but I have to admit I really enjoyed it! It was worth the entrance fee alone to get to go in the fog-filled room, 10m x 8m glass-walled box full of, well, fog. As soon as you get in, you lose all sense of direction and can't see more than about 40cm in front of you, the more reticent among visitors circumnavigate it with a hand on the glass, but I shuffled (you can't move too fast as the floor is wet and you can't see anything) right into the middle which I immediately regretted as I then couldn't find my way to an edge when I'd had enough of the claustrophobia. Eventually managed to work my way out, but it was great fun and well worth a visit. Also pretty cool were his wire sculptures of his body cocooned in larger structures, and the 31 figures standing on buildings which I think should be left there permanently as they liven up some pretty boring buildings. It's half price on mondays which was a bonus, but I'd happily have paid the full 8 quid for the fog, although it'll cost me as much in anti hair frizz products as the dampness does leave one rather bedraggled.

Still managed to not watch any of Big Brother, am in the middle of writing my list of things I need to take on holiday so will return to that now. Have had another couple of entries for the diet competition, but I don't think they are serious ones so will probably not count, unless by some freak event one of them wins. My brother Matt has gone for 21 lbs as he thinks that's how much I need to lose anyway - the cheeky bastard! My friend Simon wasn't much better as he too said it was likely to be a stone at least, but I think he was banking on an attack of the dodgy tummy too (have bought some imodium, rather the cheap Tesco own-brand version, just in case).

Going to watch the rest of the F word now, having been put off having any pudding by Janet Street-Porter drinking pig's blood. Eew. Probably nicer than yak butter tea, mind.