The British Museum

The husband finally read the blog last night. I've been told it's too much of a travelogue. I should talk more about my feelings. Well, I should, but I'm in therapy for that very issue. I have trouble expressing my feelings, especially negative ones. But I didn't plan for this to be a diary of my day, so here goes...

Today we went to the British Museum. I had wanted to see the Egypt exhibit and the early British / Pre-History exhibits. I'm amazed by the artistry and craftsmanship of ancient people. With little nothing more than fire, water, and hard physical labor, they created pieces of art and jewelry that are as stunning as anything made today. It just boggles the mind.

So many people at the museum pissed us off. We heard several people ask what the Rosetta Stone was (?). And there were so many people wandering around with a camera stuck to their eyeball that you had to wonder if they really saw anything at all. I did take a couple of pictures, so I'm not wholly innocent, but they were mainly of Egyptian gods with the heads of cats. Got to find out who it was... I've totally forgotten. My favorite part was being able to touch the pieces, to run my fingers across things created 5000 years ago. That I will remember.

We did a bit more shopping - got some things from the museum store (including a ring that mimics a Sussex arm band from the 12th century B.C.) and hit a used book store and a comic shop. There was a woman at the book store who would not move from in front of the science fiction section. She stood there, pulling down one book after another, no rhyme or reason. I did everything I could to be rude to her without actually being rude to her, but she was oblivious. I can't stand people who won't share. We liked the comic shop better than Forbidden Planet. It had that feeling where you know the people who work there love comics and actually read them.

On the way to Trafalgar Square, the husband's knee started to go out. I'm not surprised, considering how much walking we've done this week, but it worries me. I know he won't go and have it looked at when we get home. So we came home early and he kept apologizing, even though he didn't need to. It's not like he planned it and I know it really hurt. He had to lean on me for support. If he's not better tomorrow, I'm buying him a cane.

I did manage to finally buy some flowers at the market. Roses. Not my favorite, but pretty and fairly cheap. I don't usually buy myself flowers and the husband doesn't send them. It's part of my screwed up personal philosophy of "I'm not worth it". Something else I'm working on in therapy. His philosophy? "Flowers die. I'll buy you something that will last."

Not sure what we're going to do tonight since British TV sucks, but we'll figure something out.

Breakfast today? A dark chocolate raspberry bar. Yum.