Lana Durovic and Ken Garland

On a chilly afternoon, I head from Borough Market to the private view of the exhibition of my friend, Lana Durovic, in Southwark Cathedral.

Catching up with old friends and colleagues, and the chance to chat, the photographs did not immediately take centre stage. But having helped the charismatic and utterly charming design luminary, Ken Garland, to tea and cake, I was invited to sit with him to discuss and discuss them.

Wise, revered and utterly of his time, I felt like a12 year old again, taking an exam at school. He asked my opinion of the images I’d scarcely glanced at. But sitting with him, with one just in front of me, I was moved by the power of his vision and my instant connection to its mood and suggestions.

It spoke of beauty and loss, form and freedom, nature and man, artifice and reality. Casual, artless, powerful art.

I felt transported, caught up in the timeless moment, our lives of violence and glory, and they way we somehow adapt to it all as our norm. In the warm and cosy atmosphere of a cathedral refectory, surrounded by friends, the backdrop of chatter, laughter and squealing children , I was being educated by a great mind with a huge heart about a world I am just touching the edges of.

The conversation brought tears to his eyes and humility to my heart. He reminisced, saw his life in her images, and read her life through them. It was a powerful moment of pain and wonder and glory in the midst of love and laughter and , we are in England after all,… tea.

For me, it was another Sunday in London.

Not taken for granted, not unnoticed, not mundane. Wonderful, terrifying, thrilling and nostalgic – the stuff of real life.