"Frost fair", this is where we will go this weekend I thought on Friday as I was browsing through the Christmas events in London. The website said it would be a fair with ice sculptures, husky dog rides, street theatres, artist performances on the bankside. Wah! Interesting outing it would be I thought. So on Sunday, in spite of the freezing weather, two creatures i.e. me and my husband ventured outside. The venue of the fair was near Tate Modern, the famous museum of modern arts in London. I also had plans to visit the Tate which I did not mention to my husband, who otherwise would have cancelled this whole thing even before we started.
We reached the Southwark station from which the frost fair was at a walkable distance. Following directions, we started not to mention the horrifying cold enveloping us and penetrating its sharpness through all the warm clothing we had on us. There wasn’t any excitement on the streets showing any signs of social activity in the vicinity. I wondered if I had checked the date properly, hoped so desperately for 2 reasons, one coming out so far in the cold and finding that there was nothing would be a terrible experience on its own, plus I would also have to hear the continuous comments, tease from my husband, which I didn’t want to. So, I kept motivating him to walk further, when we saw some signs, parents with their little kids all bundled up in clothes treading little steps. “It might be good” I thought, although I started getting this intuition that it would be a huge disappointment
So, finally we reached the place, in front of the Tate. Except for a pair of little dirty dogs giving rides to tiny kids, a man demonstrating how to carve an ice sculpture and a few little stalls the place was dull. I didn’t want get into the phase of getting teased, so volunteered my apologies beforehand to my husband for getting him there. He is one person who at times sees light even in the darkest tunnel! He showed me a place a few meters away filled with smoke, which gave hopes of some warmth. There were food stalls, hot pies, drinks, pancakes etc. I had issued a temporary curfew on chicken items in the house, so my husband did not express any desire to eat any of the hot stuff although he was fully willing to do so.
With the freezing weather my finger tips started aching despite the gloves. That was the pretext to go into Tate. It displayed modern art which in reality made no sense but on observation, one could make 101 interpretations of it. Being an imaginative creature I am, I very well could read meanings into them. I am not an artist or a great fan of arts, but I could easily spend a couple of hours in the gallery. But meanwhile my husband was getting restless. He has a self-imposed (well, I think so) allergy towards museums, libraries or anything I like and I started getting the hints. I ignored the comments and continued;
Finally we came out of the Tate; I thought he deserved something for accompanying me to the Tate plus the frost fair, a fair which was lacklustre. A ping of guilt started piercing me for dragging him out in the terrible cold. Back again there were the food stalls. There was this Morocco food stall which sold all spicy dishes filling the air with beautiful aroma. Suggested him to buy it. Little encouragement was all he needed. He came out all happy with a huge Morocco chicken cone in his hand.
Back at home we were relaxing all warm and cosy. “When will we visit the next museum?” he asked all smiling (All credit to the Morocco chicken cone). I remembered Joey of the ‘Friends’ (the funny character in the ‘Friends’ series who likes eating). I said “Next Saturday, but this time there won’t be any Morocco checken”P.S: I know this is not my kind of blog. I just wanted to keep up the writing spirits
We reached the Southwark station from which the frost fair was at a walkable distance. Following directions, we started not to mention the horrifying cold enveloping us and penetrating its sharpness through all the warm clothing we had on us. There wasn’t any excitement on the streets showing any signs of social activity in the vicinity. I wondered if I had checked the date properly, hoped so desperately for 2 reasons, one coming out so far in the cold and finding that there was nothing would be a terrible experience on its own, plus I would also have to hear the continuous comments, tease from my husband, which I didn’t want to. So, I kept motivating him to walk further, when we saw some signs, parents with their little kids all bundled up in clothes treading little steps. “It might be good” I thought, although I started getting this intuition that it would be a huge disappointment
So, finally we reached the place, in front of the Tate. Except for a pair of little dirty dogs giving rides to tiny kids, a man demonstrating how to carve an ice sculpture and a few little stalls the place was dull. I didn’t want get into the phase of getting teased, so volunteered my apologies beforehand to my husband for getting him there. He is one person who at times sees light even in the darkest tunnel! He showed me a place a few meters away filled with smoke, which gave hopes of some warmth. There were food stalls, hot pies, drinks, pancakes etc. I had issued a temporary curfew on chicken items in the house, so my husband did not express any desire to eat any of the hot stuff although he was fully willing to do so.
With the freezing weather my finger tips started aching despite the gloves. That was the pretext to go into Tate. It displayed modern art which in reality made no sense but on observation, one could make 101 interpretations of it. Being an imaginative creature I am, I very well could read meanings into them. I am not an artist or a great fan of arts, but I could easily spend a couple of hours in the gallery. But meanwhile my husband was getting restless. He has a self-imposed (well, I think so) allergy towards museums, libraries or anything I like and I started getting the hints. I ignored the comments and continued;
Finally we came out of the Tate; I thought he deserved something for accompanying me to the Tate plus the frost fair, a fair which was lacklustre. A ping of guilt started piercing me for dragging him out in the terrible cold. Back again there were the food stalls. There was this Morocco food stall which sold all spicy dishes filling the air with beautiful aroma. Suggested him to buy it. Little encouragement was all he needed. He came out all happy with a huge Morocco chicken cone in his hand.
Back at home we were relaxing all warm and cosy. “When will we visit the next museum?” he asked all smiling (All credit to the Morocco chicken cone). I remembered Joey of the ‘Friends’ (the funny character in the ‘Friends’ series who likes eating). I said “Next Saturday, but this time there won’t be any Morocco checken”P.S: I know this is not my kind of blog. I just wanted to keep up the writing spirits
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