“I don’t feel like taking my bag with me. It’s huge and heavy. And I don’t want to take pictures, either. They must be easy to find online, so why bother.”
“That’s OK with me. Let’s leave everything in the cloakroom and walk around unburdened.”
It is not easy to describe The British Museum. ‘Overwhelming’ comes to mind, besides ‘not enough time’…
In the afternoon, we decide to eat at the museum restaurant. “Super”, that’s how my hubby describes his free range chicken with harissa spices, “Can I please have some more?” being the most logical reaction to my Mediterranean veggies I can come up with. They are absolutely delicious. “Here’s a small Christmas present for you,” says the waitress, giving us each a packet of small pies. They contain spiced plums and are absolutely lovely.
In the evening, we discover what is to become our favourite hangout: The Old Thameside Inn. You cannot walk and watch all day long without needing fluid medicines and respite in the evening, is all I say.
(A modern woman, isn’t she? Ignoring the sign claiming she shouldn’t be sitting here on her left and a picture of what must be a goddess of fertility on her right, smoking and exposing here ovaries to the cold steps instead🙂 )