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Your letter, was only the start of it.
Jan. 13th, 2014 11:21 amOn Saturday I found myself sauntering around the Colombian gold exhibition at the British Museum with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ditzy_pole. I’m not much of a one for Mesoamerican art; I think it’s often a bit grotesque and alien and it doesn’t really speak to me, but hey, I’m a member of the British Musuem and can walk past the crowds of babbling tourists and saunter into any old exhibition I choose whenever I like so I reckoned I might as well make the most of it.
Anyway, as usual the exit from the exhibition was through the gift shop – these things can’t be cheap to put on – and there was the usual high-quality tat, amongst which was a rack of genuine Colombian peasant art.
Now I didn’t know this but it seems making small model animals out of single lengths of coiled string or twine is a traditional Colombian craft and I found myself looking at these whilst my charming lady companion busied herself looking at expensive gold jewellery. Standing next to me, doing the same thing as me, was a small girl of about seven or eight, and as she did so she was saying to herself “…and this is a giraffe, and this is an octopus, and this is a cow…” and so on. I held one up and showed it her. “I really like the Rhinocerous”, I said. And I did. It was charmingly hopeless, like a grey pig with a horn. In return she just gave me one of those serious stares which only small children can manage and turned and walked off.
That’s me told, I thought.
Anyway, I went to wait outside and leaned against the wall, checking my mail. As I stood there the little girl, holding her mothers hand, walked past. She pointed at me and said in a clear, carrying voice “THAT'S THE MAN, MUMMY”. Everyone in earshot turned and just stared at me, including her mother who gave me a glare which could have cracked stone.
I’ve never felt more like Jimmy Savile in my life.
ditzy_pole. I’m not much of a one for Mesoamerican art; I think it’s often a bit grotesque and alien and it doesn’t really speak to me, but hey, I’m a member of the British Musuem and can walk past the crowds of babbling tourists and saunter into any old exhibition I choose whenever I like so I reckoned I might as well make the most of it. Anyway, as usual the exit from the exhibition was through the gift shop – these things can’t be cheap to put on – and there was the usual high-quality tat, amongst which was a rack of genuine Colombian peasant art.
Now I didn’t know this but it seems making small model animals out of single lengths of coiled string or twine is a traditional Colombian craft and I found myself looking at these whilst my charming lady companion busied herself looking at expensive gold jewellery. Standing next to me, doing the same thing as me, was a small girl of about seven or eight, and as she did so she was saying to herself “…and this is a giraffe, and this is an octopus, and this is a cow…” and so on. I held one up and showed it her. “I really like the Rhinocerous”, I said. And I did. It was charmingly hopeless, like a grey pig with a horn. In return she just gave me one of those serious stares which only small children can manage and turned and walked off.
That’s me told, I thought.
Anyway, I went to wait outside and leaned against the wall, checking my mail. As I stood there the little girl, holding her mothers hand, walked past. She pointed at me and said in a clear, carrying voice “THAT'S THE MAN, MUMMY”. Everyone in earshot turned and just stared at me, including her mother who gave me a glare which could have cracked stone.
I’ve never felt more like Jimmy Savile in my life.
