I was supposed to meet a friend tonight who has returned from the Cayman Islands for a couple of weeks. As part of the occasion we were going to visit her brother's girlfriend's handbag stall (http://www.carmenwoods.com) at a professional designers' weekend.
Only I misread the map and ended up at an art gallery that was raising funds in aid of a tribe of Malaysian "sea gypsies" who are under threat from the more land-based lifestyles. It was next door to the proper venue, so Google Maps didn't really seem to know the difference. And nor did I.
I spent a good hour there wandering round, pretending I belonged there in my suit, surrounded by floppy haired, baggy clothed artistes, until I finally got summoned to the right building by a "Where the hell are you?" phone call.
And that is how not to visit an art gallery...
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