We had the annual Whitebait Dinner last night, a ritual dating back to Turner’s day whereby a boatload of Academicians travel upriver or down in order to feast on a platter of whitebait, which was then, and remains, a cheap dish – fresh sprats rolled in flour and then fried.   It wasn’t only painters who liked to travel downriver to the Trafalgar Tavern, but politicians too.   This year we feasted in The Narrow, a pub at the entrance to Limehouse Basin, looking out across the bend in the river towards Canary Wharf:-