The art of cynicism

The river boat trip from Tate Britain to Tate Modern provided a view, which would have made for an excellent photo had it not been for the raindrops on the window. After a few sorry attempts at photographing the scene, I put the camera away. Later that day, on leaving the cafe inside Tate Modern, there was a crowd around a television. On the screen was a video, showing the view through the window of a moving vehicle, except it was obscured by raindrops. Sometimes the only difference in the value of art is the artist.

Attempting to make the cut

“Put the weapon down”.

A voice rang out through a loudspeaker. It was flanked by the dual sounds of whirring helicopters overhead and encroaching barking dogs. As I lay face down on the tarmac amid the gloom of Heathrow airport with torch-lights flashing, I was surrounded. My terrorist plot had failed and the authorities had captured me.

“Put the weapon down”, the voice repeated.

“Hand over the scissors”.

Because scissors are dangerous!

The day I nearly became a shoplifter

In my continued quest to reach the status of a law abiding citizen, and following on from my earlier post, I have discovered another potential pitfall. As if naivety wasn’t enough to disrupt my good intentions, I can add absent-mindedness.