Of love, life and art

Even I can't be entirely cynical about yesterday's royal wedding. It may have been overhyped and a transparent attempt to distract us plebs from real issues but I was just happy to see my taxes spent on promoting love instead of war. Fabulous dresses, outrageous headgear and we got an extra day off work - what's not to like? I might as well appreciate holidays while I can still take them - once I'm self-employed, a day off will mean a day of lost income or an all-nighter to follow. Going to task in the city (look it up) has the sort of advantages you don't appreciate until they're gone.

So we spent our day off (and indeed the wedding itself, much to my mother's horror) driving up to Sheffield to see our friend Mike, who has a barbeque for every occasion and specialises in tender brisket (which at least sounds wedding-related). A couple of friends were there who happen to be self-employed, so of course I took the opportunity to ask them about tax and accountants (I know how to get a party swinging). One does consultancy work via an agency; the other is a designer who has diversified. Neither is particularly inclined to return to the life of a corporate minion - and both evidently took the day off, so perhaps I shouldn't be so concerned. The key message was to take it all seriously - get the right insurance and pay the right tax. I think I can manage that.

Further inspiration followed today at the Yorkshire Sculpture Park, which I had never heard of and was slightly anxious about visiting, as it was 40 minutes in the wrong direction from home. But, as usual, submitting to The New was definitely the best choice and one that had already been made by everyone else as it seemed that the whole county had turned out to frolic in the art-strewn countryside. For us East Anglians lowlanders, even the hills were a revelation, sprinkled with the fresh greens of spring, and enhanced with the double pleasure of art.

That's not to say my cynicism was entirely smothered - while I'm happy to revel in the many metaphors of a meshwork viewing pavillion, I'm less inclined to call 71 wooden steps art, even if they were fashioned of burnished oak. That's just expensive landscaping. But I am still inspired: we only tackled a small proportion of the riches on offer so we will now be demanding a trip to sculptureland after every barbeque at Mike's. Every sense needs feeding after all.