After brunch at the Chelsea Kitchen, David gave me a choice: Tower of London or the British Museum. I chose the British Museum and to confirm the choice a number 19 bus rolled up the King’s Road to take us there.
The thing about the British Museum is as soon as you walk in you say, “Oh my god, I’ve only seen that in textbooks.” Prepare to repeat that about 8,000 times. Also pepper the conversation with, “The colors are much brighter in person,” or “It’s much bigger in person,” or “It’s much smaller in person.” Or my personal favorite, “On second thought, I guess I did know the Romans and the Egyptians overlapped.”
Somehow, though, I missed the Rosetta Stone. The key to unlocking heiroglyphics. The key to ancient studies and I walked by. I was in a museum daze and barely saw anything. I did see the Elgin Marbles, “Much bigger in person,” and the Discus Thrower (Also much bigger in person.) I will have to go back this week and try it again. Another truly bizarre thing is that you are ALLOWED to take photographs in the British Museum and it’s free admission. You are also allowed to touch things, not all things, but a lot of things.
And it is noisy. I like how noisy british public spaces are. There was a mylar helium filled heart balloon stuck on the new modern geodesic glass dome ceiling in the middle and the banister walking up around the reading room feels great under your fingers. It is hard to find modern marble that feels well-worn, cool, and refreshing–high standards for a banister.
There are sphynxes and sarcophoguses and statues and… I have to go back in the next 15 days.