Treachery.

After a few hours of wandering around the Celtic exhibition at the museum, I wasn’t in the best of moods. I had curtailed the pleasure as it  had involved a lot of standing around watching videos and reading exhibit labels that were, apparently, vying for the Nobel literature prize. Bearing in mind that the vast majority of visitors were what, these days, we have to call “senior citizens” – a silly expression considering that we live in a village – there was a serious deficiency of seating. When I gave up and left the display area, the café was full of our U3A members taking the weight off their feet and, I hope, preventing potential patrons from buying food and drink there.
 
It was a very similar story the last time we went there, an event that we had forgotten when planning this visit.
 
The shame is that there is some very interesting stuff there, including the Deskford carnyx (a trumpet made in the shape of an animal head) and videos of the manufacture and playing of a replica. The original was both made (80-200 AD) and subsequently excavated (1816) in the tiny village we will be visiting in a few weeks’ time.
 
On the way home, we stopped at the food emporium to stock up on the few essentials that were missing from the list we took with us last Friday. It was there that I saw this message on the back of an old cynic’s shirt.


I've just posted yesterday’s, “Cat’s Cradle.”