Mel and I took the train from Brighton to London Bridge and then rode the bikes to the Tate Modern where we had a couple of slides on the Carsten Höller Slide Installation. Rather fun. We then rode up to Belsize and continued to create our new board game (more on that later when the game has been published). Dinner at a restaurant on Marylebone High street and then a ride through the cold and slightly foggy London night to Victoria where we caught the 23:35 to Brighton.

Allow me to elaborate a bit on the Tate and the slide installation.

First - the idea about a thing being labeled art is rather akin to quantum physics .

How so?

In so much so that anything is nameless and unvalued until it is labeled and valued.

A thing is not art until it is labeled art. To label a thing art, that thing (or it's general group (things which are similar including the implications of the statement 'all things are art'!) must at some point be encountered. Once the encounter has occurred the labelling can begin. Encountering does not need to be physical it can be by idea transferred.

I trust we are clear.

A thing is only deemed art when it is interacted with - when someone or perhaps something (jury's out on that one - we can't know for sure if mice have an art world) says 'hey Bill get down from that ladder there and come looky here at this bit of art some prankster has nailed up here on the wall.' Until that point all things are artless . Art only becomes art when someone or perhaps something says 'this is art '.

That idea is similar to quantum physics in the sense that the observer is factored into what is being observed in a quantum physics experiment. In other words the observer cannot be excluded from the experimental results.

Simply put whoever is observing the art is part of the art.

What I am getting at is that once I heard about the Slide Installation I became part of the installation. Thus for the rest of the story you should factor in the above idea and realize also that you too are now part of the Tate Modern Slide Installation .

We get off the train at London Bridge and ride west along the Southbank, slipping past Sir Francis Drake's Golden Hind and the hordes out per una passeggiata on a sunny Sunday in jolly ol' England.

Arriving at the Tate we negotiate parking for the bikes and secure them with two locks to the railings that surround the entrance to a subterranean passage. I am excited like a wee lad at this point as we race past the slow poke pedestrians entering the gallery.

Mel isn't willing to attempt the ten story slide (she's still reeling from having to ride around London on her bike) so she agreed to wait for me on the second floor. I race upstairs past the slow pokes lumbering up and down the stairwell - 'move you slow pokes, can't you tell I'm a headed slidin'! Geeze!' - and...LEAP... I rocket onto the upper most level and there in front of me is the hole in the wall that leads to the ten story slide just waiting for me to dive in and slide down head first . However, there is small queue of five nervous looking individuals humming and hawing about going down - pussies. So I wait - yeah right the waiting lasted about five seconds before I'm bounding up to the gate keeper (or rather in this case the hole keeper) with all the glee the five scaredy cats waiting in line are missing out on.

The conversation with the hole keeper goes something like this - Hi, I notice your sign says that I require a ticket to go down the slide. - That's right Sir (not a good start when the Sir word gets thrown in at the end of the first sentence) - Ah, hmm I don't have one but I love slides and just ran up ten flights of stairs and there are only five people waiting in line, so can I just go? - sorry Sir (real trouble now that Sir is being used at the start of the second sentence) you need a ticket - oh boy here we go I am sniffing out automatic pilot response and I am betting I'm not the first want-to-be-slider questioning this ticket deal - ok one last try - I understand the ticket thing, but can you just pretend I showed you my ticket, after all the slide is free, and I'll just slide down quick like - I'm sorry Sir (there's that Sir for the third time) you need a ticket - ok where do I get this precious ticket for the free slide - down stairs Sir, on the first floor (I noticed a smirk of devious pleasure on her face with that last bit of info) - you mean I have to go down ten flights of stairs, probably have to queue up for the ticket then race back up another ten flight of stairs and present the ticket for the FREE slide before I can go on the FREE slide? - yes Sir!

Right enough of this shite and I'm off flying down the stairs four at a time - it's easy if you know how to use hand rails - get out of the way you slow pokes, man on a slide mission coming through - and onto the first floor!

Half a block queue - ok I am quickly figuring out the best way to queue jump when along comes Herbert-the-queue-monitor-guy barking out the news that anyone lining up for the slide tickets will note that the tickets will only apply to the three oclock slide - it's 1:30 now and I have to be five miles away at Belsize in half an hour. I can't wait around an hour and a half to slide - given the time to run back up the ten flights of stairs, queue up and slide down I am already late for the Belsize meeting - ok time to dump the puck in and crash the boards.

Hi, I singingly shout out as I abandon the queue and approach Herbert-the-queue-monitor-guy - I heard what you said about the slide tickets and I was just up at the slide and well, heck you know there were only five people in the queue and the girl guarding the slide wouldn't let me go saying I needed a ticket and what what and - yes Sir (shite Sir right off the top) you need a ticket - yes I understand the I-need-a-ticket-concept-for-the-Free-slide, but heck I just ran up and down twenty flights of stairs and I am willing to do another ten if you would just radio up and tell her that you have a man coming up who is in a desperate hurry and to just let him have a slide - I am sorry Sir we can't do that you need a ticket - yes yes I understand that but there's hardly anyone sliding and I'll be fast - I'm sorry Sir - wait maybe you didn't hear me NO ONE IS USING THE SLIDE - I am sorry Sir we have issued nine hundred tickets and those people are going to want to go on the slide - ok but their not here now and I'll be fast - yes Sir but they will be arriving - what? you're saying nine hundred people are just going to show up as I jump on the slide - yes Sir - come on you know as well as I do that's not likely - well Sir I just can't let anyone without a ticket onto the slide that wouldn't be fair to everyone else and there would be complaints - right I can imagine that now 'hey that guy sliding down the slide hasn't got a ticket, that's not fair' - how is anyone but you, me and the hole keeper going to know I don't have a ticket? What - are all the gallery patrons going to elect a ticket inspector? Hey everyone who doesn't have a ticket but wants to go on the slide this guy just went down the slide and doesn't have a ticket - I am sorry Sir you need a ticket.

Ok so now the time has come to pull out the trump card (the fib with a hint of truth - in this case the hint of truth is that there are planes and Canada exists) - look I have to leave to get on a plane to Canada in twenty minutes and this is my only chance to ride the Tate Slide - Sir - look I promise I won't tell anyone about the ticket, not on the way up to the slide, on the slide, in the gallery, on the way to the plane, on the plane or while I am in Canada, please!!! - come with me Sir, I shouldn't be doing this but I'll make an exception this one time - right like I'm going to come back and do this all over again but hey I heed the one time warning - and low and behold Herbert-the-queue-monitor-guy takes me to ticket office jumping the half block queue and gets me a ticket - wow cool.

I run two at a time stairs up to the top, put on the helmet, knee pads and hand the hole keeper my fancy ticket - thank you Sir and she doesn't take the ticket - ah don't you want the ticket?- no you may keep it - huh???? I just did thirty flights of stairs so that you could look at the ticket?!!!

Anyhow I shuffle my feet into the sack (she wouldn't let me go down head first), lie myself flat on my back and launch down ten flights of slide - weeee - ok the weeee lasted about one level of slide before I went ho hum and started thinking about the colour of my socks - I landed on the first floor with a not so much as a screech but more of a slow slide stop- snore!

I was then greeted by Herbert-the-queue-monitor-guy who apparently waited to see how I got on - I took a quick look over at the queue and without him there seemed to be chaos - and how was the ride Sir? - hey great thanks - well I suspect you had better dash now? - huh why? - your flight Sir- huh? - to Canada - oh right yes and I was off to the second floor were I gave Mel the free ticket - apparently the free ticket worked even for the little two story slide (there was also a one story slide) - quick we have only ten minutes for you to slide and then ride five miles through the London traffic.

Well needless to say we were late but hey Mel thought the ride was scary and exhilaratingly - but then she refused to jump off the cliffs in the Alps and swing on the trees.