Ansin, chuaigh Léna agus mé go ár n-chúis go príomha. Chónaic muid taispéaint ealaine ó An Cogadh Mór le Stanley Spencer i dTeach Somerset. Go nádúrtha, bhí sé cumhtachach ann; nuair chonáic mé an múrmhaisiú, mo shúile thaisrítear mar a shuigh mé os a comhair ar feadh i bhfad ann.
Titeann óiche tapa in aice an gheimridh thuas. Líonraidh scátálaithe rinc. Caith uair leis ealaine Ollainis agus Pléimennaí ina Gailearai Náisiúnta sula ndúntar.
Bhí an t-ádh orainn, mar sin féin. Bhí ag oscailte luath an Gailearaí Portráid Náisiúnta béal dorais. Tá sé lán de aghaideannaí gcuimhne, ó Risteard II go dtí Seámus Ó hEanai.
Ar deireadh, ith muid dinnéar pizza simplí ach blásta ag caifé in aice leis Stáisiún Bóthar Gloucester. Bhí sé in aice leis ár óstan. Bhí óicheannaí fuacht leis fuarach ó artach, deirtear go raibh sé.
To London again, part two.
We woke up late with jet lag. We started Wednesday going to Trafalgar Square. Layne ate lunch with her friend Rosemary and I went up to an Advent service at The Church of St. Martin in the Fields.
Then, Layne and I went for our primary reason. We saw the WWI art exhibition by Stanley Spencer in Somerset House. Naturally, it was powerful; when I saw this mural there, my eyes moistened as I sat before it a long time.
Night falls rapidly near a northern winter. Skaters filled a rink. We spent an hour with Dutch and Flemish art in the National Gallery before closing.
We were in luck, all the same. The National Portrait Gallery next door was open late. It's full of memorable faces, from Richard II to Seamus Heaney.
Finally, we ate a simple but tasty pizza dinner at a cafe near Gloucester Road Station. It was near our hotel. Nights were cold and chilly from the Arctic, it was said. (Pictiúr le Spencer: An Aiséiri na Saighdiúrí i tSéipéal Chuimhneacháin i tSandham/Resurrection of the Soldiers in the Sandham Memorial Chapel, Burghclere; cuireadh seo réamh-mheasta i Londain/ this was projected in London)
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