Loki in London, Day 7: Halfway Through– The Empire’s Attic

It’s hard to believe that we’re already half-way through our stay in this city.  Some patterns have already become firmly established.  The humans exhibit an inexhaustible enthusiasm for photographing bits of architecture and every plant there is.  They complain about aching feet and hips and backs.  (I have seen to it that the female has blisters under her blisters.  I am not nearly even with her for her abandoning us at Kew!)   The female obsessively checks the markets for new-to-her apple varieties.  So far she has seen Scarlet Crisp (wanted to try, but had no way to deal with a multi-pack on the way to the day’s activities, after which I vanished them out of every store), Evalina (also multi-pack, dismissed as a mere color sport of a variety she was not impressed with), and Caudle (multi-pack and probably a cross between Golden Delicious and Red “Delicious”–urrrgh.)  They obsessively consult their planning Document, the weather,  and the map, trying to figure out what comes next and what to wear while doing it.

Today what comes next is taking the Tube up to Hoxton and mashing ourselves into the British Museum with half a million new acquaintances.  Mark my words!  When I take over the planet, not too far down my To-Do list is revisiting this place with no one else’s bloody head in the way.

All grumpling aside, this really is a splendid collection.  Various intrepid voyagers and acquirers boxed up the treasures of eight-tenths of the globe and sent them here for safekeeping.  They’ve saved me a lot of time–when I come to rule this rock, all the goodies will already be in one place.

They’re still collecting, too.  We have tickets for a brand new exhibit, all about two ancient, sunken cities that are still being excavated.  Sadly, they won’t let us take photos.

(Later)  Sigyn, didn’t you think that was fascinating?  Let’s go see what else is here.

The biggest item in this place is probably this winged whatsit.


And that’s not even all of it–its hinder parts were obscured by someone’s bloody head.  

Note the Egyptian fellow in the background.  I think he might be a relative of the pawed creature we met down on the Embankment the other day.  There are whole rooms here devoted to Egyptian antiquities, Sigyn.  I wonder what’s in the center of that swirling knot of gawkers?


Oh–I’ve read about this!  It’s a sort of lithic decoder ring that let archaeologists read the squiggly Egyptian writing.  (If they’d had Allspeak, they wouldn’t have had to lug this back from the desert.)

There is no crowd at all around this other case, which has something even more to my taste…


Sigyn is more taken with the Museum’s various toothless lions.


She’s named this one Snuffy.  And this is Snuffy’s cousin:


(Later.)  We have wandered and wandered, from the royal treasures of Ur to Georgian silver and Greek urns; from big, imposing statues to this unassuming little vase that Sigyn wanted to take home.


If the human female didn’t have so much stuff crammed in her purse, we could have managed it.

That noise you hear is Sigyn’s tummy rumbling.  Let’s see what the Museum is serving for lunch.  Hmm.  Another pre-packaged sandwich.  (Do you know, I think there is a single kitchen that prepares all the museum and takeaway food in the WHOLE CITY, because I am sure I have seen this sandwich before.  Yes.  This particular sandwich.)  A cup of grapes makes a token nod toward nutrition.


But heads soon nod in the other direction…


The human male is eating his way through all the bizarre flavors of crisps this island has to offer.  I draw the line at “prawn.”  A man’s got to have his standards.  The human female was hoping there’d be Bakewell Tart.  She has a particular fondness for that concoction and has been eager to sample it again.  So far, this trip has been tartless.  (If I play my cards right, I can keep it that way.)

There are a few more things to look at, notably an exhibit on treasure hoards.



There are also some old Anglo-Saxon tidbits. This stuff all looks like it could have come straight from Asgard!  I particularly like these buckle-ish pieces,


But this helm reminds me unpleasantly of one of my more oafish family members.


You know, it’s hard to get good photographs in this dim light, and this place is about to close anyway.  I don’t know about you, Sigyn, but my head is so full of beautiful things that I can’t look at one more plate, plaque, or potsherd, and all the labels are jumbled up in my memory.  Perhaps I should have taken notes…  Oh, well, the human male no doubt has the entire museum on film.

All that remains to cap this day is to find a good dinner.  No food that comes in boxes or plastic sleeves!  After dumping camera gear and various what-nots back at the hotel, we’ve settled on the place right across the street.

Fish and chips for the human male…


Sigyn is little confused.  Remember, sweetie?  I explained this at lunch.  “Chips” are French Fries and “Crisps” are Chips…  No, I don’t know what the green stuff is. I don’t trust it.

The female is having the risotto.


Supposedly, the brown and green bits are spinach and mushrooms and she’s plowing through it steadily, but it really doesn’t look appetizing, does it?  Let’s finish off this day by sampling all the goodies in the pastry case instead!

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