Forever Yours

An eagerly awaited trip - a trauchle round the National Museums storage facility at Granton. What a lot of old rubbish they do keep. Every quern stone ever used in Scotland. I mean, why? You’d be as well as keep bricks. And as for marine mammals - seems that every poor unfortunate specimen washed up round the coasts of Scotland in the last two centuries has been skinned, de-blubbered and the bones put on racks. “For researchers,” apparently. That said, I enjoyed it hugely, especially when we came to the room where the old stuffed animals now languish - that was the museum of my childhood. I remember them all so fondly. 
Later, out again to Summerhall, for MrT’s partner, the esteemed Art curator, has a major exhibition opening. I say major, but I have no idea. The Spanish Consul General dude was there, but apart from him, I was probably the only other celeb. The artists research, re-claim, reveal and re-present semi imagined old pasts, new futures, and truth. 
What more could you want? Old bones? We've certainly got those.

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