pumpkinstrokemarrow

Yesterday to the smash hit show in the basement of the extension to the National Gallery - an extension which, as it happens, I rather like, even if I can quibble with some of the detailing - to see some Leonardo, along with a few hundred others.

On the way I had time to read the potted biography in Canady's 'Lives of the Painters' and I learn that Leonardo was one of the four giants of the high renaissance. That when the 'Mona Lisa' was last on loan in New York in 1963, the thousands of paying punters were lined up four abreast to be marched past the great work, a few seconds pause being allowed to each file as it drew abreast. And that, for some commentators, if one had to chose between the notebooks - the things containing, amongst other treasures, his designs for tanks and helicopters (as befitted his day job as a combat engineer) - and the paintings, one would chose the notebooks.

Get into the show itself to find that there are a relatively small number of paintings by the maestro, but some additional paintings by contemporaries and lots of drawings, which last I passed on given the crowds, the reproducability and availability elsewhere of the drawings, although I did pause long enough to think that some of the women by the contemporaries had a bit more life in them than those of the the maestro. In so far as the maestro works themselves were concerned, being reasonably tall was a help as this meant one could stand at a reasonable distance and peer over the peering heads. I did not like his portraits of men but I did like the two portraits of ladies, especially the one with a ferret. I had forgotten that his custom was to paint a head and shoulders against a more or less black background, which for me made for a rather unbalanced picture. I prefer a bit of background to round out the composition.

On the way out of part 1 of the exhibition, slightly annoyed by the sight of one the the attendants - a pretty young Asian woman - chewing gum, a habit which I have been conditioned to abhor. On the way up to part 2 of the exhibition, we were reminded of all the other, resident treasures in the sparsely populated remainder of the National Gallery, which one can see in comfort. Odd how these specials pulls in the punters - but one cannot blame the trustees: if specials pulls in the dosh, that helps oil the wheels of the rest of the operation. They are not in a position these days to look a gift horse in the mouth.

In the margins, another visit to St. Patrick's at Soho Square. Then past another church (illustrated) which has not done so well, having served, I believe, in the recent past, as a lap dancing joint. Maybe part of the Stringfellow operation. It might have been more decorous to have knocked the thing down.

And another visit to St. Martins, with its stunningly restored ceiling, rather marred by the new east window, which for my money is completely out of keeping with the intended tone of the place. All very well to try to be more than a museum piece and to accommodate the contemporary, but there are limits. There were probably more winos there than regulars, something which posters outside suggested was encouraged: somewhere quiet and warm for them to snooze. Nor did I care for the rather phallic baby Jesus in the portico - assuming that is who it was. A second lapse of taste on the part of the church authorities.

But the good news is that the Toucan Bar in Carlisle Street has survived the demise of its sister operation near the Wigmore Hall. Excellent spot for a quiet afternoon drink, Irish stew is served as is a very impressive range of Irish whisky. I settled for an excellent spot of Green Spot while being entertained with tales about how the price of a bottle of the stuff might be affected by considerations such as there being a rare fault in this particular batch of labels. Real stamp collector stuff, going rather beyond paying a lot for a fine whisky because there is not very much of it about.