And there it is a jar full of moles. Just in case you are ever in Central London and overcome by the urge for a pickled mole. They have them to spare in the Grant Museum. One of the several University of London collections that I am planning to visit over the next few weeks and certainly one to put on your list of places to visit if you have a taste for bones and pickled animals.
Liz came down on Monday and we spent most of the day in the British Museum - she is a Friend, you know - and in the evening we attended a frightfully interestinglecture on the priceless Nimurd Ivories that have recently bee acquired by the museum. You can see the shadow of Liz's hand on the photo above as she tried to snatch one and put in her pocket. The event was just for members so there was no riff-raff and no one under the age of 75. except me of course. - And Liz, he added gallantly. She is a Friend, you know. - The talk was fascinating. Apparently when they were discovered the ivories were huge wall panels, perfectly in tact after thousands of years. The archeologist had to employ local fellahs to hit them with hammers, jump up and down on them and break them into small pieces - or shards as Archeologists and their Friends call them. Liz is a Friend, you know.- and rub soot and dirt into them to make them look properly old. This process of sharding makes the pieces far more interesting and easier to share between museums, as well a creating a lifte time's work for dozens of archeologists piecing them all back together again.
Later Liz brought me a meal at one of the small Turkish restaurants in Islington where Tony Blair and Gordon Brown used to hang out. I wonder where they are now. The next morning after a quick coffee and croissant in Cafe Deux Amis Liz headed North to see an ivory dealer in Manchester and I went back to my room to read Malam Tanpa Akhir, that frightfully exciting book by Agatha Christie. Who, by strange coincidence, was one of the people who first dug up the Nimurd Ivories
Later Liz brought me a meal at one of the small Turkish restaurants in Islington where Tony Blair and Gordon Brown used to hang out. I wonder where they are now. The next morning after a quick coffee and croissant in Cafe Deux Amis Liz headed North to see an ivory dealer in Manchester and I went back to my room to read Malam Tanpa Akhir, that frightfully exciting book by Agatha Christie. Who, by strange coincidence, was one of the people who first dug up the Nimurd Ivories