Twilight zone

I rushed out of work last night to go to the Victoria & Albert Museum, but my journey was thwarted at every turn: a train stuck in a tunnel, a 10 minute wait for another one, an about turn decision to use another line which entailed a sweaty 10 minute walk through the sticky winding passages of the station, and the V&A subway side entrance being blocked off requiring an extended walk to the front of the museum which was cram-packed with people queuing for tickets in the entrance and for drinks at the bar. To top it off, I had forgotten my mobile phone. I was half an hour late in meeting M and I had no idea where he was amongst the throng.

I bumped into him in the South Asian room where we were both looking at the stone Vishnus and Ganeshas. Luckily he'd had the foresight to queue for tickets so we went straight into the Twilight: Photography in the Magical Hour exhibition.

The premise of the show is to highlight the magical hour between day and night as photographed by eight contemporary artists, including our favourite Gregory Crewdson (above) and Ori Gersht (below), but each photographer's work was hung in dark rooms so tiny that people - many with large backpacks - jostled one another for a good view. These were works designed to be viewed from a distance and with lots of space around it. Unfortunately, it was impossible to view them properly in such abysmal surroundings.

We left, disappointed, in less than an hour and made our way back north to eat delicious Turkish kebabs, chicken wings, pitta bread, hummus and red onion salad at our local Antepliler on Green Lanes in Harringay.

Finally satiated, we returned home and drank rich, soothing Malbec whilst watching Season 5 of Curb Your Enthusiasm. We didn't get into Curb Your Enthusiasm until a year go when we caught an episode in our Bangkok hotel on a trip to Thailand last summer. The episode that grabbed us by the metaphoric balls was Porno Gil from Season 1 where Larry and Cheryl attend the party of a former porn star and where Jeff, fearful of his wife finding his hidden pornography should he die during an upcoming surgery, asks Larry to move his stash.

Having never caught the Seinfeld phenomenon, we had no idea who Larry David was. But on the strength of Porno Gil, we bought every available season of Curb when we returned to London and have been gorging ourselves on some of the best comedy around ever since.