There hasn't been much work in the life of m_m of late, so I've been trying to fill my days with productive, yet inexpensive pursuits.
The other day a friend and I (who is also in a bit of a quiet patch on the work front) decided we'd meet at Flinders St Station and then go for a walk along the Yarra River and around the Botanic Gardens. Maybe even go all out and treat ourselves to a coffee somewhere. It was a gorgeous day, so perfect walking weather. Melbourne really does have some lovely walks.
As we crossed back over St Kilda Road, we decided we'd stop in at the National Gallery of Victoria for a cuppa and a poke around their gift shop (lovely selection of books in there btw).
So we headed up to the The Tea Room on Level 1. I can highly recommend it as a lovely spot to enjoy afternoon tea. Their tea selection is ace... lots of interesting blends to choose from and they make crustless chicken & mayo (and smoked salmon, and egg) sandwiches which are über cute.
After an amazing cup of tea which was what looked like a sea urchin dropped into hot water which miraculously opened to show three little carnations, my friend decided to head home as she hadn't been feeling well, and I decided to wander around the European Collection for a gander.
For the most part, since it was: (a) Monday; and (b) about 12pm, I had the gallery to myself. Lovely. Took a really good look around at some lovely artworks.
And then SHE arrived.
SHE being the woman who though it would be a fine, fine idea to wear clippity cloppity heels to the gallery and follow me around the rooms like an elephant.
I can't find the words to tell you how utterly annoying this was. My quiet appreciation and observation of these works of art was hindered by a woman who never seemed to stop but just kept strutting around in noisy shoes.
Am I being silly when I suggest that there should be a rule in galleries that people will only be allowed entry if they are wearing rubber soled shoes?
I'm sure I'm not the only person who thinks so.