First I attended the Anti-Academies' Alliance AGM in Camden, then we met up in Bayswater at our hotel. As I plan to be rude about the breakfast I won't identify it. On our way over to Islington we came across a professional head-stander, standing on his [or her?] head in a bucket, with a sign advising us not to try this at home. Supper was a wrap eaten walking down Roseberry Avenue.
My first surprise was that the ballet contained female dancers. So it wasn't an all male Swan Lake; it was an all male swan troupe, gang, flock, what ever a lot of swans in one place are called. [and I know I am not the only one!]. As you can't do pics of the ballet here are some of Mig and me in the streets.
Anyway they were gorgeous; I cried a bit, and we took the tube back to Bayswater for a mini pub-crawl, where we definitely put the world to rights. 
Breakfast was an adventure that should have been avoided. Here's a pic. After that we went to the Turner exhibition at the Tate. [Here's mine and Turner's selfie, and below some January trees.]
Then over to Covent Garden to see Rhiannon busking on cello again. 
From here Morgan and I went our separate ways. I met Grafton, Charlotte and Sky in Peckham, talked rubbish about steel pans for an hour. Grafton gave me and Wanda's steel pan a lift to Liverpool Street, whence I tubed it to King's Cross, arriving too close for comfort for departure.
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