|Dundee's Caird Hall, not designed by Leo.|
Peter Capaldi and I had soup together this evening. Well he didn't have any soup, he was stuck inside the TV in that bizarre and wobbly place known as Sky Arts 2. Peter was busy being or at least representing and verbalising the thoughts, ideas and manic (but lucid) rantings of Leonardo da-Vinci. There were gestures too, lots of them. The saddest, wisest and most driven man of all times and not Malcolm Tucker or Dr Who either. There were a few quotable moments shared between the three of us, Peter, Leo and I, although frankly, I never really got a word in. As I supped on the hot home made soup like some puzzled student or an old man bundled into a care home I hardly moved. There really was no point as I help my breath between spoonfuls and waited the punch line that never came. But now I know that somebody got a hold of those 30000 notes, words, ideas and diagrams and kept them safe, right up until today. Then of course there are the secrets, the hints that Leo dropped, the dark magic and those hidden places; we'll never know what he really wanted, how he was, you just can't trust TV's versions of events, "I intend to leave a memory of myself in the minds of others." This must be how you do it.