I’ll draw a veil over the rigors of the overnight journey from home that culminated in an arrival day that’s still a blur. Let’s just say no one is immune from bad luck, random disappointments, and unforseen difficulties. Instead, I’m starting with the morning I woke up in the city of London. Coincidentally, the English turned the clock forward, so the whole city probably felt jet-lagged. I found a fine coffee shop with an excellent brew and convivial atmosphere just up the block, but the bus route I’d scouted was unavailable due to road closures so instead, I walked. The sky was blue, the air fresh and cool, the traffic minimal. The streets pretty much reeked of charm in the early morning. Pots of spring flowers bloomed in front of homes and shops alike. All along the way, I noted places I want to come back to.
I passed a man walking along reading a hardcover book he held out in one hand. I discreetly gawked, but how different is it from reading an iPhone while you walk, as every other person is doing?
The line in front of the British museum stretched for blocks, but it moved very quickly once underway.
Inside, I began with the dimly lit and hushed experience of the Stonehenge exhibit. I was captivated by the 3D print of oxen skeletons, the bones rotated upright, illustrated with CG. So extra. What an ingenious way to display this find. It rouses the imagination.
More than the collection of stone ax heads, flint arrowheads, and jumbled carnage of bones from an ancient battlefield, I was moved by the skeletal remains of this woman. She was buried tenderly holding her infant in a sling.
Afterward I dallied with the Greeks and Romans, and spent quality time with mosaics.
The Egyptian wing echoed with the sounds of children talking and laughing, raucous as a schoolyard recess. Cheerful but, whoa, loud. As a member of the British Museum, (oh yes, yes I am), I was given access to the Member’s Room, a calm oasis with a cafe, library, and WiFi that I took full advantage of.A welcome discovery was the area of floor-to-ceiling books and cabinets of curiosities was relatively serene and even possessed an unexpected sense of humor.
A kind woman took a photo for me in front of a wall of mosaic. I assumed Covid had put an end to such courtesies but happily I was wrong.
Earlier than I would have liked, my eye and feet gave out and I limped back to my hotel. The empty streets of the morning were thronging, but not unpleasantly jammed.
Tomorrow it’s back to the British Museum, this time to linger over objects that caught my eye, and to discover new ones. Sketching may be involved.
