I started this sitting on the train to Shoeburyness, making my way to Southend-on-Sea. I was winding my way through London’s East End, and it’s almost unrecognisable from 20 years ago. New developments everywhere. Small skyscrapers, dominate the skyline. 4 o’clock train seems strangely empty, and I haven’t. I guess people are still working from home in Australia.
It was a bit of a mixed day. I said goodbye to my lovely friends at St Albans, all the while grateful they took me in as the worst of the jet lag worked itself out of me. The 13 years we hadn't seen each other wasn't an issue. It was just lovely. I managed to win over one of their dogs - she was a complete tart. The other, not so much.
In the morning, I made my way to Kings Cross, where I left my suitcase in a left luggage place, which turned out to be a dodgy looking convenience store on the Pentonville Road. With me, a day pack in which there was a change of clothes, some toiletries, my laptop and a few other bits and bobs to see be over the night. There was no way I was going to drag my suitcase into deepest, darkest Essex. That's just asking for trouble.
There was a couple of hours to kill, so I made my way to the British Museum for a pleasant afternoon of mooching the antiquities. Go to the museum they said. It will be fun, they said.
Right... Exasperated exhalation, followed by a roll of the eyes.
London is overrun with tourists. This is a given, but it seems even worse at the moment. With nobody travelling for the last few years, everybody is making up for it now. The British Museum was full.
After a cursory, and quite pleasant with security who gave my back pack a once over, I made my way in, hoping to find the cloak room to take my bag while I wandered around.
I will say, the building is magnificent. It always has been. In the years since I have been here, they've put this amazing roof over the courtyard. It's a sight to behold. It would be even lovelier to see if every man, woman, child and guide dog wasn't there.
On finding the cloak room, I asked the young woman to store my back.
"We're full. Come back in an hour or two."
"Seriously?" I questioned.
"We're taking nuffin' for a while. We're full."
It was as curt as a "fuck off, we're busy."
But it's the British Museum. And there isn't a cloak room big enough take more bags. Yeah, that's a bit of an oversight.
So, I pressed forward, heavy bag on my back, rather miffed. I like to wander galleries unencumbered. It was not to happen.
The thing that nobody tells you about the British Museum - nothing in it is actually British.
It's full of stuff taken from other places over the last couple of hundred years. Objects like the Rosetta Stone, the Parthenon Marbles. Lot of Egyptian artefacts... the list goes on and on. There are a lot of Aboriginal artefacts there, some of which have been asked for back - but the requests fall on deaf ears.
In recent years, there have been scandals over the fact that items have been taken from the collection - some have come up on ebay. What a lovely way to look after objects that are in your care.
I mooched for a bit amongst the crowds.
I went and sat with the Parthenon Marbles, looking around at the oblivious crowds.
And I felt profoundly sad.
Fucking colonialism and this sense of outright entitlement.
On the way out, there was an exhibition about Life and Death. In the cabinets, there were some aboriginal items. And yes, they had the appropriate trigger warnings and the like, but with everything going on in Australia at the moment, their presence felt a bit wrong.
Yes, I was in a mood.
I took my backpack and made for the exit, deciding that some peace and quiet was needed. I headed towards Fenchurch Street, choosing the option to go and sit with Samuel Pepys in St Olaves for a couple of minutes before the train left for Southend. I find that Samual Pepys a tonic, even if he was an entitle bloke who lived 300 years ago. It was better than being surrounded by the booty of entitled toffs who refuse to give reparations.
Maybe, if they took in my backpack I'd been feeling a little more generous.
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