Yet another phase of Boy One’s forthcoming 16th birthday took us to Edinburgh and the huge museum on Chambers Street. He’s into history – period irrelevant.
Boy Three is doing the Celts at school and he was chuffed. Boy Two is largely interested in dramatic sighs, sneering and eye-rolling, venue irrelevant.
And so we set off. Boy One’s attempt to systematically work from Carl Sagan and stardust through to Dolly the Sheep was thwarted by the sheer size of the task. We were flagging by the Darien Project. And the Panther had got somewhat indignant at the museum’s apparent insistence that the English and Spanish were to blame for the fiasco.
The view from the roof terrace is one if the city’s finest and worth becoming temporarily misplaced in the maze of display.
Weary but content we left just before they locked the doors. “There used to be fish ponds in here, you know?” I told the boys. “Yes, we know. You tell us every time.”
And each time, I promise that I’ll be more organised and sort us out a tour of the highlights so we aren’t worn out before the Industrial Revolution.