Yesterday we had an awayday. As part of her Christmas present I said I’d take Noreen to Chichester before mid-February to see the Edward Burra exhibition at Pallant House Gallery. I also knew we’d also get at least a wander round the cathedral and a sniff round any bookshops we stumbled across. And of course there’s always lunch and coffee and cake and …

So yesterday was the day. Although we didn’t spend quite as long poking around Chichester as I’d hoped (the decrepit old knees won’t take a lot of it these days) it felt like a bit of a marathon, what with living the other side of London.

We left home just before 8am, took the train into Marylebone and a taxi across to Victoria where we were eventually allowed onto the train to Chichester. ETA 1115. (Coming home took just as long.)

The first stop was the cathedral which was welcoming and actually quite busy for a winter Tuesday. The heart of the building is Norman and there are some lovely decorated arches. But to be honest beyond that I didn’t find it one of the most entrancing cathedrals I’ve visited, although given that there are gardens (not visited) it would probably be much better on a summer’s day.

There is a (Victorian?) stained glass window and a memorial tablet commemorating the Tudor/Jacobean composer Thomas Weelkes and another tablet commemorating Gustav Holst. The stained glass window by Marc Chagall is also worth seeing.

There is also a rather lovely and unexpected piece of Roman mosaic which was discovered under the foundations and is now visible, in situ, behind a glass viewing panel in the floor. The cloisters, with their wooden vaulted roof are unusual and rather rather nice.

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Lunch in the cathedral café was simple, good and welcomly warming on a bitter January day. Noreen had a pasta bake with veg and I had a fish bake also with veg. With a soft drink each this was, I thought, good value at under £18 for the both of us.

After lunch we wandered slowly past the market cross to find the Pallent House Gallery which was staging the Edward Burra exhibition. We hit a day when the gallery were doing half-price admission. Unexpected result!

I’ve never been sure about Burra’s paintings but he was a friend of Anthony Powell, especially pre-war, so a viewing was a necessity. Having seen the paintings in the flesh I’m still not sure about them; to be honest most of them really don’t do much for me. Many were smaller than I’d imagined, although there were also some which are much larger than expected. One or two of Burra’s late landscapes were rather nice, but his earlier work is extremely “disturbed” being often a cross between Heironymus Bosch (a known influence on Burra) and Salvador Dali. All in all his paintings look better in reproduction. Having said that Burra is probably more important than is often credited, under-rated and under-exposed — but this latter is doubtless because most of his surviving work is on private collections.

By now it was early afternoon and still bitterly cold. A meander through the town unearthed a secondhand bookshop, but nothing interesting to spend our money on. So we whiled away an hour drinking coffee and eating cake then made our way towards the station.

We just missed a train. This meant an amusing but cold 30 minute wait for the next one. I don’t know what it is about this area of the country but the train stations seem to be populated by a peculiarly local inter-mix of teenage school girls, low-life and the inhabitants of the nearest loony bin. At least it makes for an amusing way to waste the time between trains.

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The train back to Victoria was another amusement. It consisted of a 3 year-old who insisted, despite his mother’s instructions, on working the squeaky hinge of the lift-up tray on the seat. Two lads of about 20 who were Tottenham Hotspur supporters going to see Spurs play and who in 90 minutes managed to drink four cans of premium lager each! How they were standing by the time we reached Victoria GOK; but at least they were harmless. Although best of all was a large group of sub-teen French school-kids who at one point broke into a rendition of Queen’s I Want to Ride My Bicycle in cracked English. I was waiting for them to do the ‘Allo ‘Allo version of The Wheels on the Bus but sadly this never materialised. It would have been a fitting end to an interesting day.