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One is nearer a really trite plaque in a garden
Than anywhere else on earth.

My parents came to stay at the weekend, which was a welcome break after a fortnight being busy at work, and busy at home (the continued saga of sorting out possessions). This found us on Saturday morning in Waterperry gardens, which positively pullulate with trite plaques. Fortunately they also contain plenty of horticultural interest, even in February, and had a history as a women’s horticultural college from 1932 – 1971, which had me thinking about whether anyone had set a murder at one, or is it always teacher training?

Sunday saw the Asmolean’s exhibition on Blake, which was very good, though very much focussed on the technical side, and with little on his political beliefs. This was not necessarily a downside – I learnt a lot about the art of his printing, which was very interesting, and we got to gripe a bit about what they might have done differently, also enjoyable.

I am continuing to enjoy Wolf Hall very much. The acting is fantastic, not just the big parts, though Rylance, Foy, and Lewis have been justly praised (Lewis really came into his own this week), but the whole cast. Bernard Hill’s Duke of Norfolk has reminded me how much I wish that someone would make a TV series about the Howards, for a different perspective on the period. The rest of my TV watching at present focuses on the cross-country skiing world championships, but I shall spare you that analysis.

*A poem much improved by my discovery during the washing up that it can be sung to the tune of ‘Nelly the Elephant’.

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