This week I have been in Madrid, feeling rather unwell.
That is no fault of the Spanish capital: a fine city, in which I have been hosted by my lovely publishers here, as we launch Los Perros de Essex, the Spanish edition of Essex Dogs. It has just been one of those winters. A rolling cycle of sniffles, coughs and fevers, culminating this week in an eye complaint which refused to respond to any medication.
Annoying. Gross. Painful, too. And by yesterday afternoon I was getting rather alarmed. Both my eyes were completely red, I was starting to lose my vision and I could barely open them to look at the journalists and colleagues I was meeting.
Then something strange happened.
Having limped to the end of the day’s work, I had an hour of free time to myself. I decided to go to the Museo del Prado. Probably an hour in a darkened room with a cold compress would have been more sensible, but I figured I could do that later. I had never been to the Prado, which holds one of the finest collections of medieval art in the world, including a peerless group of works by Hieronymus Bosch and the Descent From the Cross by Rogier van der Weyden.
I stuck my sunglasses on, necked a handful of painkillers, put in some more eyedrops and made the trip.
Man, was it worth it.
Now, there are a couple of things you need to know about The Descent From The Cross by Rogier van der Weyden. The first is that you’re not allowed to take photographs of it. That’s a Prado rule, which runs throughout the museum. Plainly, I disobeyed it, but slyly, which is why the photo above is wonky.
The second thing is more important. The Descent From The Cross is the most staggeringly beautiful work of art I have ever seen.
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