Extinction

A blue-skied Monday, a day off for doing things we said we'd do and never did, one of which was the museum. Amazingly (is it?), we hadn't been since it was done up. Alas, gone are the glass cases of whole families of birds (families as in taxonomic orders, not like, here's the guilemot family: Asif, 6, Becky, 9, dad Lawrence and mum Rita, and dog Honey. Wait, would they have a dog? Considering they incubate and raise on a ledge about 5cm across, possibly not. Gone too are the koi carp in the main hall. Was there a major problem with kids spitting in them? Tryig to nick them to sell on ebay? Drowning? The body of a woman found floating face down in the koi, her eyes eaten out of their sockets like lambs in the presence of crows... Murder at the Museum, starring, err, that bloke from Death in Paradise who was in those BT ads, and, actually, I know nothing. I have no idea whatsoever who would play the female lead. Ok, Dawn French. No. But she'd have to have a cameo. What as? No idea. Anyway, they replaced the carp with a load of planes and stuff. Which was not an improvement.

But, it was fascinating and fun. We did the animal bit, got utterly depressed (if we weren't that way already) looking at the extinction stuff. But on the plus side, I weigh as much as a giant anteater. Anteaters are cool. I had first of all weighed nearly the same as a chimp, but I took off my rucksack and thankfully dropped back down to anteater weight. And we smelt a skunk. And pressed buttons on things. And played games. And got thrown out of the kids' section for setting fire to the ants.