Rather a Gloomy Day
After the two minutes silence at noon, I rather reluctantly headed for the British Museum, where I had agreed to meet a classmate, because she seemed to need cheering-up. On the way there, I recieved phone calls from two other people in my year, desperate for help with their placements and a call from the people I saw on Tuesday telling me that, as I'd suspected, they had no work for me. The journey itself was hampered by traffic diversions around the memorial service at Tavistock Square. So by the time I got to the museum I was pretty fed up, and the herds of shrieking children didn't help much. My friend had also been turned down for the job, and also for the last two placements she'd applied for, and had an almost visible little black cloud floating over her head. The cafe was not taking credit cards and neither of us had any cash. The Japanese galleries were still closed.
We wandered morosely about the Greek and Assyrian collections, with me whinging about my knee and her moaning about her dreadful luck, which she is sure had infected our entire year. I suspect I was just as annoying when I was twenty-three, so maybe this is payback for all the aggravation I gave my family at that time. After an hour or so's moping (which did take in an interesting collection of Chinese jades), we both wandered home.
The sole bright spot in the day was the special-offer table in the museum's excellent bookshop, where I found an entertaining book on Roast Beef, John Bull and The British Nation, which I may pass on to my (vegetarian) brother, and two books with irrestible titles; Sex in Georgian England (A D Harvey) and Wizards; A History (P G Maxwell-Stuart), which I can just leave lying around, even if they are rubbish. All at half-price.
We wandered morosely about the Greek and Assyrian collections, with me whinging about my knee and her moaning about her dreadful luck, which she is sure had infected our entire year. I suspect I was just as annoying when I was twenty-three, so maybe this is payback for all the aggravation I gave my family at that time. After an hour or so's moping (which did take in an interesting collection of Chinese jades), we both wandered home.
The sole bright spot in the day was the special-offer table in the museum's excellent bookshop, where I found an entertaining book on Roast Beef, John Bull and The British Nation, which I may pass on to my (vegetarian) brother, and two books with irrestible titles; Sex in Georgian England (A D Harvey) and Wizards; A History (P G Maxwell-Stuart), which I can just leave lying around, even if they are rubbish. All at half-price.