Propaganda; cocktail bar inadequacy; job applications

Went up to London on the 7th to the Propaganda: Power and Persuasion exhibition at the British Library. Interesting, though very crowded – as it closed yesterday, the day would have been one of its final Saturdays. Ruth bought a book and I bought a postcard of Chairman Mao striding across hilltops to stir up revolution among the masses. We had tea afterwards in the first floor café behind the King’s Library Tower.

Afterwards we walked down via Bloomsbury to Soho, where we paid a visit to Prowler and bought a few DVDs. Ruth did ponder what our ability to go into Prowler and emerge armed only with documentaries says about us (as it’s not the first time) and also appeared to be having a fit of conscience as to whether the presence of women – particularly in the ‘back room’ – might be a tad unsettling for any older chaps in there. Possibly, I suppose – we did venture briefly into the back room, which stocks DVDs of a somewhat more explicit variety, but from the glut of flesh on display on the covers it was impossible to make a choice as to which might have the most artistic merit, so we passed on those. Aside from the couple of documentaries we left with, I picked up a copy of the Canadian family comedy Breakfast with Scot, which is an enjoyable piece of fluff, if only because the two male leads are excessively easy on the eye.

Finished our afternoon with a visit to the cocktail bar opposite Comptons, whose name I’ve forgotten – Ruth dutifully had a cocktail, at vast expense, but I decided I was more in the mood for a cold beer, and was surprised at having to trail right down to the bottom of the menu, to where it said, in small print, something along the lines of: ‘Beers (generic) - £3.95’. As we were surrounded on all sides by men drinking cocktails, Ruth pointed out that this section might as well have been headed ‘For the lesbians’, and chided me for fulfilling stereotypes. As I don’t consider I make a point of fulfilling these, I stand by my decision – though my Peroni was inadequately chilled, quite possibly deliberately.

Had two men round on the Sunday to give us quotes for two new windows for the rear extension, one a salesman-type from Anglian, and the other a straighter-talking chap from local(ish) company Academy. We suspect the local chap is going to be cheaper, but are waiting to see.

Spent all day last Saturday preparing a job application, which may or may not come to anything, and had dinner with Ruth at the River Spice in the evening. On Sunday we went to John Lewis for new hand towels, as we're a bit short partly because Ruth elected to bury Lola in one of mine, and Ruth bought a new bedside lamp. She carted this home while I went to visit the Polish Catholic church on Watlington Street, which was open for visitors as part of the Heritage Open Days weekend. Spent about 20 minutes there before going a short way down the road to the Lyndhurst, where I spent a couple of hours with Claire discussing a job she wants to go for.

Walking home I spotted this 'For Sale' sign outside HMP Reading, presumably a member of the public's comment on the prison's impending closure, announced earlier this month.