Good pizza, proper Neapolitan fried stuff and a bit of a rant about paying for stuff in the National Gallery that you can usually see for free.
Maybe it's more of a lunchtime joint but it's a good post-exhibition option if you want straight up modern cooking at a good price.
Stodgeless pheasant in a much improved room. Shame about Freddie Mercury and the gang.
If it wasn't for the tv this would have been an 8.
There are two temporary offerings at the National that any self-respecting art lover finding themselves with an afternoon in London should get to. Catch Cagnacci while you can. His masterpiece, Repentant Magdalene, leaves town tomorrow! But also catch Ofili's jewel-like tapestry.
Getting down in the basement of the National Gallery springs a welcome memory of an overlooked children's classic.
All those stick balancing Yoda scroungers ,now transformed by the Magic of Christmas into rapacious aerial Santas, make a mockery of the imperial pomposity of the Square's original plan far more effectively than Shrigley's tragic waste of bronze could ever do.
Thoughts on Delacroix in London and Paris.
Snooker nostalgia? Get real Daddio, this is a Golden Age of baize.
On Friday I was fortunate enough to get a ticket to the National’s latest blockbuster, Less of an Exhibition, More of a Thesis (or Inventing Impressionism: The Man Who Sold a Thousand Monets). I won’t expand too much on the drawback of such exhibitions to the average punter – too crowded, bed blockers parking themselves with their audio…