|The Sandwalk - walking=thinking|
|The smell is claustrophobic|
Next treasure find: a drawing of an orangutan in a dress whom he met at London Zoo, he gave her a mirror to play with and music to listen to. The wall in the room I should have gone in already (the one before he got married) lists his thoughts on 'to Marry or not to Marry'. The whole piece is titled 'This is the question'. In his faint, slanted ink handwriting I could just about make out a sentence under the 'not to Marry' side (worth the ten pounds entry fee alone) 'No children, no second life'.
The tastefully evolved heritage gift shop sold the normal jam, ginger wine and mugs with cows or sheep on them but in the corner were giant marrows or white squashes for one pound. I felt a leap of excitement at the thought of buying a Darwin marrow, but soon realised the burden of carrying it. I regret that now, it was not in the spirit of the day. Darwin, the avid collector, upon finding a patch of land where there were multiple species of beetle, once popped a beetle in his mouth because he ran out of hands to hold them all. The beetle let out an acrid squirt and he spat it out, losing it for all time.
|Two females holding hands in public:|
still at risk from attack from
other upright walking mammals
On the train home, a teenage girl looked across at me and my girlfriend and after inspecting us laughed out loud, as if it was socially acceptable, as if the sight of two women who are together was OK to find ridiculous, ugly or silly. Her mum, who had a tough face, one that had been forming and reforming in the family for at least a few generations, said to her curtly while looking across at us, 'What's so funny then?'
And from this one firm correction from a mother to a daughter I felt we had evolved just a little way more, if you'd like to know Mr Darwin. It's just one more note added.