Hunt the jigsaw

Jigsaw 23, Series 2, reported on 11th December was an entirely successful jigsaw, but it was the last in stock, the charity shops in Epsom - and indeed 'The Works' - being more into the 1,000 piece variety which I only attempt on high days and holidays. So I opted for a repeat of Holbein's 'Ambassadors', which is going well, and on which I will report on in due course, without refreshing my memory as to what I said about it last time beforehand. But a memory refresh from the original clearly was called for, not least because it afforded an opportunity to investigate the Bullingdons of Clapham Junction, a branch of the family with which I was unacquainted (see the other post of 11th December).

So off to Clapham Junction and out onto Grant Road. Nothing in sight but head down line and no less than three stands come into view, the nearest one nicely fitted out with a proper number of what looked like new Bullingdons. Checked one out and off up Falcon Road, right at the Wetherspoons and so onto the Albert Gate to Battersea park, being defeated in my attempt at our more usual Cambridge Road entry by the one way system. But a fine ride along Carriage Drive North, over Chelsea Bridge to Sloane Square and from there to Eaton Square. I had thought to call on my good friend Ngella but while his very large Mercedes was present, quite the right size for a diplomat from Africa, his very large footman told me that he was out to lunch and therefore not at home. Disappointed, pushed on past all the other flashy cars up Grosvenor Place to Hyde Park Corner, which I had been thinking to avoid but didn't - which was good as one mustn't lose one's nerve about such places. Round to Constitution Hill, up (or perhaps down) there to the Mall and so to Green Park tube station (West End), the long way round, a run for which, annoyingly, I was charged an extra £1. Strolled down Piccadilly to find a rather tatty bicycle, absolutely covered in full plastic bags, clearly the property of some bag person, some bag person who was nowhere to be seen. What exactly was he or she doing in the area? Not quite the street for a few tinnies, but maybe the street for a spot of begging from the Christmas crowds. Some of whom had spilled into the chocolate department of Fortnum & Mason's where they were issuing queuing tickets, for all the world like the delicatessen counter at a Sainsbury's. I decided that I could do better over the road at La Maison du Chocolat, which I did. A very smooth operation led by one Aurélie Devers, although the lady who served me was Spanish. Good at her work for all that.

And so down to Eros, encased in a large plastic dome for the festive season. Sadly, it being early afternoon they had turned on neither snow storm nor lights, so a return visit to see the thing properly is clearly called for. Hung a right down the Haymarket, past the theatre where I may or may not have seen the 'Apple Cart' (see 17th December) and onto the National Gallery, to find that I had forgotten how large a picture the 'Ambassadors' was and how good a picture it was.

I was struck by how young the two men were, both in their mid twenties, and I supposed that in those days of uncertain life you needed to make it young otherwise you might miss out. And then how all their expensive toys were scattered on a rather plain wooden stand and I supposed here that the stand was actually a piece of studio furniture and the artist had simply slung a rug over the top and arranged the toys, perhaps borrowed for the week from whatever passed for a pawn shop at that time. The two young men might have been rich, expensively dressed and important, but they may not have been learned; that might simply be the image that they wanted to convey. To at least appear to be true renaissance men, up there with Erasmus (the subject of a nearby portrait. As was a Danish-Italian widow in her (expensive looking) widow's weeds, painted for Henry VIII, who was thinking of marrying her second hand. Not quite my thing, but I dare say fashions in such matters are not what they were).

I had not noticed the crucifix before, hiding behind the top left hand edge of the green curtain (illustrated). Hiding to symbolise the retreat of the Lord in the face of the new learning or there to remind one of one's mortality, of one's small place in this world, along with the perspective skull? And I did not notice the broken lute string, clearly important, before I read the label.

In some ways a rather superior version of a Pre-Raphaelite painting; sumptuous portraiture set in a nest of valuable and/or significant objects.

Having done enough of that, out of the gallery to find a return Bullingdon at Pall Mall East. First thought was that given the threatening look of the sky, I would stop at Waterloo, but in the event pushed on to Vauxhall Cross. As it turned out I would have made Clapham Junction dry, but I was not dressed or laden for rain and it did not seem worth the risk. Bought an expensive but decent roll for £2.25 and just caught a train to Epsom, an uneventful journey, but livened up at Epsom by passing a very flash looking Audi Coupé in the car park, engine running, driver a young man rolling a cigarette. For all the world like a dealer about to make his Thursday round of the nearby estate. Are the police that relaxed these days that he could be that relaxed?