The Olympics, art and children, and whether Tracy Emin can draw.

The national mood has been subject to a temporary boost, people really enjoyed the Olympics, people you never expected to hear discuss the omnium (because you didn’t know what an omnium was) have been glued to screens and Olympic mad. Boris and Cameron looked elated while they pretended party planning had been the job they were elected for…

We took time out, and the sun shone for a fortnight, while the field of play for autumn defined without our input.

I missed the Olympics, but there were no queues in London, which I rather enjoyed. I had friends and family and the Kent and Sussex coast  to deliver a fortnight long soporific high, so didn’t turn to televised sport, but all in all it felt like the national mood lifted, even if it was temporary.

I fell in love with Margate and Broadstairs, and we discovered a band called the Lovely Eggs.

I discovered modern art is more fun with children. I took Rachel into the Turner Gallery in Margate, having read nothing about the Emin exhibition. Rachel was of the opinion that these could not possibly be drawings of people, as I silently was grateful that she had not seen what I had seen. We both laughed and agreed Tracy Emin couldn’t draw, and then on the way out I realised she clearly can draw. I had seen clearly what she had drawn and what was expressed in those lines. While Rachel saw nothing she recognised.

We went to the Tate Modern, and we walked down into The Tanks. Again, I was perplexed when we walked into a room lit red, with  a woman’s voice speaking around us. Rachel whispered that I was supposed to lie down and let the voice wash over me and hypnotise me, and she was right. The voice said things which slightly changed the way I view the world.  We stayed there for quite a while. She thought the painting gallery was for the children’s work, but she really liked it… Also she liked the London town hall clock…