I was trekking over to Wembley in the searing heat, the tube is barely crawling along and frequently stopping way too long between stops. I'm supposed to watching AL competing in the colour run but at this rate it'll just be a feint hue remaining. I bail at South Kensington, as I cannot stand the oven cum carriage, the screaming baby with the capacious lungs ever and I've already drunk the bottle if water we’re all advised to carry. I have a strong desire for a frozen yoghurt, there’s no colour run for me today.
As I'm here I revisit a few old haunts, the card/gift shop we always used to mooch around in when I used to be here with M & D back in the day and then I head for the V&A.
I have not got enough time to really visit before they close the doors but I have enough to climb the stairs to the first floor and see if I can get full length portrait of the fabulous, immense Chihuly chandelier in the grand entrance hall. Somehow I managed to find an angle that is devoid of the throngs milling below finishing their afternoon visit in the museum clutching their carrier bags of postcards, books, trinkets and souvenirs. Though being chivvied out by a security guard, I got my shot and my Chihuly fix.