Send pictures, Jennifer

I'm waiting for some pictures from this weekends real story, The Newburyport Literary Festival.

I am amazed that Jen pulls these events off every year.  This year, especially, since she's had to coordinate from London.  If I were ever in charge of an event like this I would tell everyone the wrong date and have an event full of cigar bloggers.  Actually, I would have been upended in a coup far before the date of the event.

So your stuck with my wandering weekend.  Eat my socks, Fletch.

Londoners do scaffolding so much better than anyone else.  Work is being done on Fortnum and Mason and this is the Tyvek that covers it.  I'm thinking of wrapping our Newburyport house in a giant photo of Mother Entwistle.  How great would that be?  She would be staring at Laura's house, judging. 

I got the date right this week and took in the Royal Academy of Arts Print show.

This awesome map of London was selling for £4000.  If it were £400, I would have snatched it up.

Detail to the £4000 map.

Selfie to prove I was there.

Look at the cool heat grate.  That's it.  Just look at it.

Some sampling from the print show.  I thought Jen would like the old war drawings.

I'm confused by the concept of print show.  This isn't a print.

Warhol had a bunch of prints for sale.

But the real art whore is David Hockney.  He is everywhere.  I saw recently that he's now drawing on his iPad and selling those childish drawings.  I like Hockney.  Have some pride, man!

I found this new place on Charlotte Street for lunch, The Barnyard.  I have to admit the neon chicken and the white picket fence lured me in.

Corn on the cob served with a bolt as a handle was a nice touch.

Enjoyed my Bubble and Squeak with an egg and black pudding.

I sat outside on this beautiful afternoon.  I didn't realise until I sat down that I was right next to the place of last week's fabulous man-day, Ted Baker's Grooming Room.

BT Tower in the background.  I'd hate to work on the top floor.