My companion and I arrived at the London Art Fair after a brisk walk across London. The Tube at Monument had been at a standstill due to overcrowding on the platform. My companion’s delicate sensibilities precluded crushing ourselves into the maul of disgruntled Londoners so a thirty minute walk seemed by far the best solution. Waving our complimentary tickets we were ushered through the crowds at the entrance and onto an escalator which took us almost directly to the projects area. “Cosmic Mysteries” was the first stand and upon our approach I must admit more than a little pride at seeing my name in Lettraset. The sympathetic hang of my work, and the rest of the projects area, contrasted with the village fair approach of the rest of the hall. We had two tasks to complete. To thank Monika and to photagraph the stand of a gallery “B” which represents a dear friend of mine, a painter of some repute. B’s stand was to be found below in the more commercial part of the fair. We braced ourselves for a trial.
Cosmic Mysteries II – descent into hell
The lower levels of the London Art Fair were a bear pit of writhing bodies in bespoke suits. Tall and tanned, their faces stretched into grimaces of contentment it’s denizens stalked each other calling out with braying voices. My companion and I, small and scruffy, felt a bit like early mammals scurrying around the feet of the great dinosaurs. In the hothouse atmosphere we scuttled from stall to stall looking for “B” the gallery of our dear friend. Eventually after asking for directions we found it but were horrified to discover they had not one drawing, painting or print of his on their wall! A tall man, tanned and aloof, assured my companion in honeyed tones that not two feet away were stored prints and drawings by my dear friend. He seemed bemused at our sudden lack of interest. Unimpressed and overheated we moved quickly upstairs in search of cooler climes and much needed refreshment.
It was there at the event’s one and only watering hole that we spotted our first, and last, celebrity. We both recognised a woman standing at the bar talking animatedly to an older man. I recalled she was an actress from Holby City, my companion, more usefully, recalled her role as a vampire whore in the film adaptation of Anna Rice’s “An Interview with a Vampire”.
This was an exciting discovery and while I hid behind a pot plant my companion went over to get her autograph. What happened next though was even more exciting.
