To make a change from Tate Modern, I spent today’s lunchtime in the National Portrait Gallery. Its 150 years old this year although obviously some of its contents are a lot older.

I have always had a soft spot for the NPG and when I lived in London I would often spurn its bigger, more popular neighbour to have a look around. A lunch hour is not enough to really do justice to the place, but its still worth doing. I have decided that, if I am going to have to suffer the commuter misery of travelling to London every day, I should at least derive some benefit from it. Its a criminal waste of opportunity to be in a World-class city, surrounded by fabulous art, architecture and history and spend every lunch hour just scoffing a Greggs sandwich at the desk.

Unfortunately my flying visit did not take me to my particular favourite corner of the NPG which, perversely, is not a portrait, and for all I know may not be there any more. Years ago I came across a little side room, either right at the top or right at the bottom, which had some Victorian engravings. One of them was of the Crystal Palace in all its glory. At the time I was living in Lewisham and had recently visited the park at Crystal Palace for the first time. Putting together in my mind the scale of the remaining foundations with the picture of the structure itself was a revelation.

Anyway, the question preying on my mind today is why the Tudor artists could draw perfectly good sword hilts, buttons, frills, beards and other articles but were so crap at fingers. Or did everyone have long cylindrical figers in those days?

My favourite piece from today was not a painting but a photograph of Jacqueline Wilson. It is about 40cm by 50cm and was a print from an enormous Polaroid camera with a very narrow depth of focus. The satisfaction was partly from the look of the photo and partly from thinking about the machine which took it. Such a great picture that I nearly forgave her for the three hours we had to queue to get her autograph for our daughter when she did a book signing in Crawley.

I think I shall go next door to the National Gallery for my next lunchtime excursion. For some reason I have an urge to see their Dutch masters…