Watt is what it’s all about
With my son Barry staying with me at the moment recovering from his somewhat complicated broken wrist operation we are currently having what might be described as ‘quality time’ together at my gaff.
This inevitably has two sides to it because I normally live on my own and he, only semi-house trained, has lived abroad for about fifteen years with only the odd visit to the UK as and when his work allows which is not very often.
As a result Byford Castle is currently operating a kitchen/catering function in which, when we are not nipping out for an evening meal together, there are effectively two different regimes existing in parallel.
His is based around cooking (one-handedly) meats, potatoes and veg randomly at all times of the day, including between 2200 hours and 0200 hours the next morning, whilst mine is based around swiftly-prepared and consumed personal breakfasts, lunches and evening meals followed by bed at about 2000 hours.
Yesterday, however – being a free day for both of us – had been agreed in advance as a day when we might visit either or both the Science and Natural History Museums in central London.
I cannot speak here for the entire nation, but in London yesterday from about 7.00am a monsoon began which continued unabated for all daylight hours.
This had twin impacts upon our expedition. Firstly, we opted to hire a car to take us to Kensington rather than endure the buggeration factor of trudging in driving rain to the train station.
Secondly, as it turned out, it soon became apparent that the tourist hordes currently in London – a significant proportion of them potentially facing a day indoors with kids ranging in age from six months up to eighteen – had also decided to visit our two projected destinations, presumably as a means of keeping the peace and dissipating some of latent family energy in search of an outlet.
Anyway, we headed for the Science Museum first.
Although entrance was ostensibly free, things were organised so that all bags were examined before entry as a security measure and then, after queueing at one of the various counters it was clearly indicated to arrivals that suggested donations of £5 per adult were ‘invited’ (i.e. insisted upon). In parting with £10’s worth for two adults, my name and postcode was checked, presumably so that in future I can/shall receive regular junk emails updating me on the latest Science Museum news.
I’ve got to be honest. Science has never a particular interest of mine. I know it exists, I know it is useful for finding out things about the universe, and about the Earth, and it is also the means whereby the human race finds out more and more about our natural resources and then works out how best to exploit them in order to make our existence more comfortable and fun. It also has the capacity to help ‘warmongers and lunatics’ develop ever-more efficient means of blowing ourselves up and ultimately destroying the world and the human race with it.
Ironically in this regard, at one point yesterday Barry let slip that he was somewhat concerned about the current state of relations between North Korea and the President of the United States.
That preamble is a way of introducing the fact that there is a reason that I hadn’t been to the Science Museum for three decades: I wasn’t that interested.
I’d been happy to undertake yesterday’s outing as an exercise in people-watching and because I felt I ought to give the Science Museum another go after such a long period of avoidance.
After all, was it not entirely possible that, with the latest internet and technological advances of the 21st Century in full bloom … 3D (or is it now 4D?) video headsets and the like … I might have my mind blown away and my horizons cleared for mega-miles by what the younger generations these days take for granted?
Well, not quite.
The place was heaving with people of all ages constantly getting in each other’s way because there was no designated or obvious ‘people flow’ system in operation. Half the small boys between the ages of five and thirteen were rushing around like headless chickens, play-fighting, ragging, generally being nuisances. A similar proportion of mothers were propelling pushchairs around whilst simultaneously sending texts or receiving Instagram messages on their smartphones, thereby getting in everybody’s way and forcing oldies like me – and grievously-injured individuals like Barry – to remain on constant alert for potential collisions or ‘comings together’.
Thirty years ago, the main exhibition that arrivals first came to was the stupendous lower round floor gallery devoted to the steam-powered ‘engines’ and other scientific breakthroughs devised in the late 18th/early 19thCenturies by James Watt, the acknowledged ‘Father of the First Industrial Revolution’.
In 2017 the same gallery remains as is. I loved it, not least because it both felt like an old friend and also a brand new one because I couldn’t remember a single exhibit (if you see what I mean).
Frankly, I found the rest of the Museum somewhat disappointing. Yes, there were innumerable exhibits and relics which raised passing interest as examples of inventions and ‘how things were’ from 1700 onwards in the world of science to the present day. They even had the capsule in which the UK’s most recent/famous astronaut Tim Peake had touched down in some far-off country within the past twelve months.
However, generally the exhibition rooms were samey. Nothing particularly wowed me. Once you’ve seen two 1930s cars and a 1950s one, you’ve pretty much seen all the old cars you need. The same applies to bits of old space junk. Okay, I was impressed to see the original (at least I think it was the original) Stephenson’s Rocket train which managed a maximum 29 mph.
Even the ‘try it yourself’ computer game-type consoles aimed at kids that dominated several of the smaller galleries above the ground floor were either unimpressive and/or uninteresting to this jaundiced eye.
Barry, being a practical man and interested in ‘how things work’, gained a great deal more from our visit to the Science Museum. Having said that, after a couple of hours he suggested to me that he was tired and in some discomfort with his wrist – would I mind if we called it a day without going on to the Natural History Museum?
I did not mind at all. By this time I was also tired from all the walking and standing around. The prospect of going straight home, getting away from the masses, making myself a spot of lunch and then having an hour’s afternoon nap on my bed whilst listening to the radio was the proverbial ‘manna from heaven’ to your author.
