Line drawing in black ink on white background of two gooseneck barnacles with eyes, one of them bending down.

Plants do it better

That is what happens for listening to Montessori. Now the little Bebushka has discovered the vertical axis of existence and the invigilators invigilate us. We can’t go incognito mother and baby. Now if it is climbable it must be climbed. And I have to admit that I agree, even if I then repress us. The invigilators intimidate me.

I am also intimidated by Zaha Hadid’s new pavillion for the Serpentine. Perhaps I am feeling susceptible, but so many curves and adges disconcert me. While we waited for the tea we marvel at the fact that time passes so slowly when the space is irritating. The waiters, who took themselves very seriously, tumbled like little machine balls amongst those tables that were so allergic to the 90 degree angle. And I, talking about the feng shui I ignore all about, blamed the folly on the dizziness of the chi. At last, one of the ball waiters, after decade and a half, brought us a couple of teas. I asked him if working there disorientated him and he looked at me as if I had three heads and one of them was sticking the tongue out. I have the bad habit of drawing vectors with the mind between the compositional elements of everything I look at, so I traced an imaginary vector from his nose to the most obtuse corner of the table where the convention of hairdressers were sitting. Who I think were put there just in case the public, especially after the downpour moments before, showed a worrying lack of irregular angles. 

We didn’t last much because they didn’t have bebushka chairs. According to another ball waiter, Zaha Hadid was at it. What a fright.