Well this is it; our boat.
It's a Saturday afternoon and I really shouldn't be on the computer but I'm eating a peach and drinking sweet tea so you don't have to worry about me too much.
Here goes . . .
Taking a cruise with the curators at Fleet Street.
The boat is named Stewart Lee after our favourite miserable comedian.
The fore deck.
And I built a coracle, as a tribute to the Hackney regatta. No one in Germany could really guess it was a boat so I put a sail on it. Rosalie named her Emily Speed after a friend.
I like your insides Emily Speed.
There's plenty of coitus on the boat, courtesy of Schweiker's papier mache figures.
Rescue flare courtesy of the unhinged man in the barmy apartment.
And last but by no means least our figure head which was made by a boy of around ten. It has a Gilbert face from one of my favourite Gilbert and George pictures, and amazingly tactile breasts that he created by putting plastic bags in the feet of a pair of tights.
Well there you go, a very successful holiday I think. I'm headed home tomorrow to a Britain smarting from those 'orrible rioting dicks. I hope it hasn't changed too much.
I've really liked Germany and Hamburg, I don't know what I've learnt - probably something though.
See you in Blighty.