The day I joined the culture club

I was sat at my desk this morning, checking emails and started thinking about plans for the evening. I'd spent the last two nights at home doing the same routine; dinner, TV, working, shower then bed and couldn't face another stint of run-of-the-mill manotony, so fired up on coffee and the spark of the idea entering my head, I Googled London exhibitions and found one at the Barbican by Cory Archangel. Reading the blurb it sounded quirky, different and a little bit cool, and if that hadn't sold it to me, the fact that it was free was enough to tip me over the edge.

Armed with my iPhone, the Barbican located on the Map app (haven't been there since First School), I made my way from work on the tube. Two hours and a grumpy Sarah later, I arrived at the Barbican (which is the most maze-like building I've ever seen) only to make my way up to the third floor where the art is housed. "No", said the man on reception, "you need to go to The Curve which is on the ground floor". About turn. Got to The Curve, which is a long and curvy room, so to speak, and was met with white screens with video games on, some sketchy music and a steward that looked like he was about to drop off. I walked along a bit, saw some old games consoles on my right and came to some double doors. Turns out that was it. What a let down. Never again. Next time I feel the pressure to be cultural I'm booking a trip to Italy to see some proper art.