Saturday 10 October 2015

My first fridge-magnet


We've come back from London with a proper souvenir - this Egyptian mummy fridge-magnet, bought from the British Museum and which now has been 'affixed' to - yes, you guessed it - our fridge.

Back in Bath, the first thing I noticed was a printed warning on some railings asking people not to 'affix' their bicycles against them on pain of having them forcibly removed. I didn't know bicycles could be 'affixed', but I suppose they thought it sounded legal, as in 'affix stamp here'. Twats.

Every time a new curator is appointed to the British Museum, they feel they have to leave their mark on it by rearranging exhibits and hiding the ones that many people have been travelling miles to see since childhood. We could not find the amazing baboon which has been squatting in the same place near the entrance to the Egyptian section since the 19th century. Why archive that?!

The place was packed with hundreds of screaming school children, which was definitely a good thing. When I used to go there as a kid (special journeys made on the train since I was old enough to travel on my own), the place was virtually empty, and all the small exhibits were housed in dusty cabinets which hadn't been opened for 50 years. I loved it.

There was always a small morbid crowd around the exposed mummy , with children like me peering down at the soiled wrappings, trying to imagine what the corpse inside looked like. That has been removed as well, probably as a health hazard.

These days, they sometimes organise sleep-overs for small parties of children, who can actually spend the night surrounded by dead kings in huge, marble halls. I would have loved that.

I once made a special journey there to look at the Aztec rock-crystal skull before it was moved to the Museum of Mankind, only to find that it had been locked away out of sight. I found one of the museum officials and asked if I could see it. They took me down to a room in the basement and locked me inside with it! I had to knock on the door to be let out, and I was thrilled at being the only person in the world to be in a room with it at the time. I have since found out that it is a 19th century fake, which is a shame - circular abrasion marks give it away, evidently, and I became friends with the old expert who exposed it.

About thirty years ago, I had a German friend who used to travel the world in his beaten-up, tiny Renault 4 car, conducting tours for German tourists. He would send them on by plane, but drive himself to the destination to meet them. He hated flying, you see.

He drove to Egypt once, and when there, was offered a genuine Egyptian mummy by some rogue dealers - there are plenty of those in Egypt.

He bought it (wrap it up, I'll take it) and managed to stuff it in the back of his Renault. He was surprised at how light it was, but in the hot weather on the journey home, it began to give off a very strong aroma - not unpleasant, apparently, just very strong.

After a while, he started to wonder - for the first time - how he would get it through the border customs post. There were - and still are - very heavy penalties for smuggling out ancient artefacts, and there was no way the thing could be disguised as anything other than what it was - no point in further wrapping.

So he stopped at a large bridge over the Nile and, when nobody was looking, threw it in the river. I often wonder what happened to it - maybe it was chewed-on by crocodiles further down past Aswan?

To me, the British Museum sums up everything romantic about mid-nineteenth century London - the London that is gone forever, and perhaps never existed at all outside my own (and other's) childish heads.

I have sat with a drink in the Museum Tavern over the road, dreaming of Sherlock Holmes. This is the only real pub ever to have featured in a Holmes story - the one where a giant diamond is hidden in a Christmas goose.

Every time you start to think that the dream is fading, shortly to go forever, someone like Benedict Cumberbatch turns up and refreshes it for another 50 years or so.

I saw a large American tourist with a very elaborate moustache, strolling through town with a Sherlock 'fore-and-aft' hat on his head and a beatific smile on his face. He was living his dream in the heart of Old London, and I really felt happy for him.

19 comments:

  1. Do you really intend to spend the rest of your life looking at that mummy on the door of your fridge? Yuk!

    ReplyDelete
  2. I haven't got a fridge magnet, I have never seen the point of them. This post has a slight feel of my style of writing and at the point where you randomly tossed in the paragraph about the bikes I felt it even more. However you turned it back to the TS style until almost the end and then it changed back again with the paragraph about the American and also the strange word beatific. Anyway I agree about the British Museum and I used to love dusty, deserted museums when I was a child.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I came back here this morning to say I was sorry you reacted like that but your comment has gone. So I'll say it anyway. I am sorry. I liked the post whatever I said.

      Delete
    2. And I was sorry I reacted like that, too, which was why I took mine down. I don't take too kindly to crits about whatever my 'style' is, because I try not to have a style, let alone copy anyone else's.

      Delete
    3. It was an observation on the spur of the moment. I regretted it later. I noticed that you didn't respond to it straightaway. I wondered about taking it down but it was too late to do anything about it. Sorry.

      Delete
  3. Is it a free association mummy? A lovely thread you spun.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. If I knew what a free association mummy was, I may be able to answer that.

      Delete
  4. A girl at work collects fridge magnets and every time we go on a trip she wants us to bring her one back...but really...what is the fucking point of collecting magnets for places you have never been to? it makes her happy though so we do it. I loved that last sentence about the American and how you felt....made me smile.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Was it a beatific smile? I am thinking of starting a collection of fridge magnets.

      Delete
  5. I love the way some people have the pure confidence to enjoy what theylove

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yes, I wish I could be that unselfconscious myself, but I have been too egocentric ever since I was a kid, I never dance, for instance. Too scared of giving myself away, having watched others do it.

      Delete
    2. Me too.....my mother once said I danced like a " a down syndrome " at a family wedding
      I hav never danced since

      Delete
  6. A very exotic form of Pooh sticks. I though you were going to add that he drove through customs then picked it up down river. I believe you can still buy mummified cats; of which there are millions.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Having spent about 1000 years demolishing ancient buildings and robbing tombs (with a lot of help from us Brits) the Arabs now cherish their heritage. The whole of the floor of the Valley of the Kings is littered with chips of stone with hieroglyphs carved into them, from ancient tomb enlargements. Woe betide anyone who picks a bit up and puts it in their pocket, though I was very tempted.

      Delete
  7. I loved this post, especially the part about the British Museum. I would also have loved to spend the night there as a kid.....hell, I'd love it now, too.

    We have several fridge magnets bought for us in other countries by friends. I like them even if they are a bit tacky.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Even when there were real children around, I have never had fridge magnets. Every time I go to a house with children and alphabet fridge magnets, I see how many swear words I can get up before I am discovered. That's how tacky I am. I love teaching three year-olds the word, 'cunt'.

      Delete
    2. I'm sure their parents love you for it! :)

      Delete