Weeks 15 & 16

This last week has been busy and pretty varied too,
A new exhibition at the gallery has created much work to do,
The gallery was closed while we changed the paintings round,
Nakagami’s work went up as Olaf Rauh’s came down.
The artist was quite particular about where his work should go,
Some of it hung really high some of it hung low.
But it was left to me, to ascend the heady heights,
Since the gallery owner’s vertigo gave him quite a fright!
I’d also like to point out that he’s afraid of spiders,
Which makes me the man of the gallery-funny to outsiders!
I’ve never felt so unsafe, as I did up that ladder,
The nerves made me sweat profusely and played havoc with my bladder!
As I tiptoed up the rusting steps I offered prayers to god,
Praying the cheap frame wouldn’t buckle and I’d safely finish the job!
I’d reposition the painting until everyone was happy,
Then I’d sprint down the wobbly contraption pretty fucking snappy.
Once everything was done and I had my feet back on the floor,
Once everyone had tired of saying, “up, down, left right a little more”
We went for a bite to eat with the talented artist,
Only he didn’t speak a word of French and not much more English.
So during a meal in his honour, where we toasted his success,
The best way he had of understanding was to take a wild guess.
So in foreshadowing the opening night he kept on drinking beer,
As everyone else talked on in a language of which he had no idea.
The weekdays passed by seamlessly as the gallery took shape,
Being bossed around by a man unable to communicate.
But you don’t always need language to establish a rapport,
Those instances where words fail are what smiling is made for.
On the Saturday, the opening kicked off at 5,
But I strolled in a 7 because I’m a cheeky little skive.
It was a holiday in France so there was no-one wiling to serve drinks,
So I offered up the services of two cheeky little minx(es?),
As a way to practice their French and to see the arty world,
The drinks for this pretentious evening would be served by two small girls.
Sarrafan & Meacher-a combined 6 ft tall at best,
Dished out the Campari to our invited guests.
The artist was in attendance and got very pissed indeed,
Proving the biggest lightweights are certainly the Japanese.
He started pulling faces which strangely made good sense,
But I’m glad he can’t read English otherwise he might take offense,
Since he seemed quite convinced and certain of the fact,
That what he said was intelligible not utter mumbling crap.
On Sunday I did the d’Orsay along with the Sacre-Coeur.
The day was blessed with the very best bright and sunny weather.
We, that’s Amy, Soph and two of Amy Coates’ friends,
Pick-nicked in Montmartre- an ever increasing trend.
But the d’Orsay was my favourite, it’s a beautiful museum.
Paris has it’s fair share, it’s a privilege to see ‘em.
This one is quite special though-put it on your things to do,
A converted old train station, the building is stunning too.
Responsibility loomed large, very very large,
The owners left the gallery with me in complete charge.
The went off to an art fair, somewhere in Amsterdam,
While I looked after the paintings-a very worried man.
Fortunately it went quite well and there was a national holiday.
The French are hardly workaholics with an extra four days off in May.
I went to “Bois de Boulogne” with Amy and Sophie,
I fancied myself as a right pimp-two blonde girls and me!
We saw that rowing boats were completely free to hire,
But under the direct sunlight my pale skin felt like it was on fire,
So after an hour or so we moored the boat back up,
Found some ice creams to lick and some ice cold drinks to sup.
It wasn’t until later-once the girls fell asleep under the shade,
That I discovered that the boats weren’t free, in fact we should have paid.
It seems someone had hired a boat and the moored it to the side,
And as they enjoyed a tasty lunch in the restaurant inside,
We cheeky three young scallywags quickly nicked their boat,
Enjoyed a pleasant row and saved a 20 euro note!