Result! And to think it seemed such a disaster when our Olympics Wing builders went bust just as the Millennium Atrium started to leak so badly – even when it’s not raining, which, I have to admit, is somewhat worrying.
Frankly, even if the roof had held, getting another exhibition in would have been tricky now that we’ve had to let early Roman, late medieval and dear, dear Victorian go – we can’t expect our superb interns to get up to speed immediately, and I’m still not entirely happy with their object-handling skills, although I accept that the cast-iron bath in the disabled lift was a one-off.
But as our work experience genius says, “A frown is a smile when you stand on your head”. To get a new exhibition free, installation done for us, all the artefacts donated – well, words fail me. But not the Advertiser: “chillingly on the ball”, as they put it; “A must-see for hoodies and concerned parents alike.”
Those unspeakable curling lino floor tiles that the rioters ripped up; those ghastly Festival of Britain souvenirs they pulverised; the hideous hessian display boards they torched; the bits of paving stone and benches from the precinct they left piled up; it just could not be better.
And since we added the CCTV on a loop, the bit showing them climbing the giraffe to get at the ichthyosaur... well, you’ve seen the figures, we can’t keep the kids out.
And then the Broom flashmob turning up the morning after and doing such a spectacular job with buckets and Marigolds - the broken glass is absolutely gleaming – that I’ve been able to cancel the cleaning contract until Christmas.
Frankly, I don’t think anyone noticed that we had actually already closed for the whole month before the riot got here - except that wretched woman from the Friends of the Shoe Buckles Gallery, and even the Advertiser has stopped printing her cascades of letters.
Onward! Though we are going to have to talk about the Olympics soon, we can’t expect to get this lucky every time.
Frankly, even if the roof had held, getting another exhibition in would have been tricky now that we’ve had to let early Roman, late medieval and dear, dear Victorian go – we can’t expect our superb interns to get up to speed immediately, and I’m still not entirely happy with their object-handling skills, although I accept that the cast-iron bath in the disabled lift was a one-off.
But as our work experience genius says, “A frown is a smile when you stand on your head”. To get a new exhibition free, installation done for us, all the artefacts donated – well, words fail me. But not the Advertiser: “chillingly on the ball”, as they put it; “A must-see for hoodies and concerned parents alike.”
Those unspeakable curling lino floor tiles that the rioters ripped up; those ghastly Festival of Britain souvenirs they pulverised; the hideous hessian display boards they torched; the bits of paving stone and benches from the precinct they left piled up; it just could not be better.
And since we added the CCTV on a loop, the bit showing them climbing the giraffe to get at the ichthyosaur... well, you’ve seen the figures, we can’t keep the kids out.
And then the Broom flashmob turning up the morning after and doing such a spectacular job with buckets and Marigolds - the broken glass is absolutely gleaming – that I’ve been able to cancel the cleaning contract until Christmas.
Frankly, I don’t think anyone noticed that we had actually already closed for the whole month before the riot got here - except that wretched woman from the Friends of the Shoe Buckles Gallery, and even the Advertiser has stopped printing her cascades of letters.
Onward! Though we are going to have to talk about the Olympics soon, we can’t expect to get this lucky every time.
