bloody tax payers money

While in London, managed to nip to the Tate for a few minutes before boarding a train to Dorset. Actually I must digress here for a moment . . .
I don't know if I have become an old git and a peasant, but I did find Victoria station scary. Not because of its size, noise, or train holding capacity, it was the level of consumerism.
I went into Smiths to buy a paper but got sidetracked into looking at crisp packets the size of a dog, buy two get one free anything you like and more magazines on 'famous people' than you could shake David Beckham at. Everywhere - sweets, new chocolate products, right-on organic snacks, jewellery for one's phone (how useful is that), bestsellers, ones that didn't make it, cookies, cake, doughnuts, coffee masquerading as puddings, beer, wine, ties, socks etc.
My point is, when you go to Toulouse station you can buy a newspaper, choose between about eight types of snack, or a real coffee, thats it. Long may it rest thus.
The Tate. Wonderful display of huge fighter aircraft with people muttering about the cost of it, and what did it all mean . . . don't ask me, but they were astoundingly beautiful things, especially the one they had sandblasted down to shining silver; upside down as if it had missed its target and slithered to a halt just before crashing into the Vermeer section.
Also, drawings by Rachel Whiteread - her of the inside out house.
The video of her talking about her work-making process was fascinating except there were two men talking about their respective house extensions so it was difficult to really concentrate. Or perhaps they were considering making inside-out house extensions having been inspired. I should have asked.