We were whisked off to the Museum of Everything on Primrose Hill today by Norris. 'We' being her parents, who are staying in our spare room this weekend, myself and Charlie, Becky, Alison and of course Norris herself. She had already been there, but loved it so much that she wanted to bring others. She even managed to keep it as a surprise, until I spotted a makeshift notice on the way to the pub where we had a quick lunch.
And it was an enormous mixture of imagination, like taking exercise in your brain by going for a creative jog. The sanity of the artists whose colourful and detailed work graced the exhibition was often openly questioned, but the intricacy and the focus of the different pieces was overwhelming, and I was scribbling away in my little notebook.
So now the cheesecake is in the oven, and the blackberry compote is tucked away in a little tupperware, ready for an evening of dinner and murder at Alex's tonight.
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