Tracey Emin/Munch at the RA

I have waited so long to see this show - since last December when it was postponed - it was hard to believe my turn had finally come, but here we are on day two of the gallery re-openings back in the lovely quiet RA.

Small and perfectly formed, the three rooms of paintings by artists separated by a century contain exemplary work of colour and pattern chosen by Emin. 

The conversation in paint takes on more than echoing techniques though. It is the subject matter that climes: intense emotions writ large on canvas and paper, wrestling the facts of human pain. 

I was deeply moved. Hurry to book a place, as although it's been held over due to the pandemic closures - lucky that - it isn't on for long. You won't be disappointed. 

Edvard Munch, Pompidiou Centre, Paris

If this was on in London, you would either have to book tickets in advance, or queue round the block to get in. Luckily a sunny Sunday lunchtime when everyone else was eating meant that, after we had listened to some karioke busking (Wonderwall sung by a Dutch guy, I kid you not), we walked straight in. Well almost, but we honestly only had to hang around for half an hour. Pretty good going for a block buster art exhibition.

My knowledge of Munch is greatly enhanced, even if I found his work rather distrubing (Murder on the road, The fight, The murderess, The sick child etc.). My favourite painting was a self-portrait recovering from Spanish flu - face like a combination of a Francis Bacon smudge and The Scream. The latter, of course, is not there. No doubt it's kept under lock and key now, safely in Norway. Get there before 9 January if you want an art challenge. Just the thing for us after the Catacombs that morning.