I was looking at two drawings by Philip Guston yesterday in the British Museum. One was a hooded figure, non pointy, and the other was a room full of hooded folk, pointy. The person I was with found them unsettling, whereas I found them beautifully stupid drawings, and the characters gormless. And then I was thinking of this painting of his I once saw that was just a load of cakes. Turns out it wasn’t cake, it was cheese, maybe a bit of cake, on a plate, on a duvet, underneath which a bloke lies, smoking a fag. How could I forget that?