The Steps of The National History Museum, London, 11.00
With my mummy’s hand clutched in one hand and a cable knit, pink scarf in the other, I look up at the enormity that is the Museum of National History. My mother is heavily pregnant with my youngest sister, Hannah, and my dad is holding a small, 2 year old Megan close to his chest as we climb the step stairs, dragging our handed down pram leaving a squeaky and thumping noise to irritate the foreign tourists behind us. My tiny heart is beating against my navy blue pinafore and I can feel my mouth fill with my desire for whatever the tall doors held.
A rush of warm air – in contrast to the cold outside that came with the harsh Winter months – greeted us, as well as the hustle and bustle of children just as excited as me and parents just as stressed as my own as they chase their offspring away from the humongous dinosaur skeleton that sits proudly in the centre of the hall, capturing my attention as we make our way to the front desk to buy our tickets.
As my parent’s flap over whether the family deal would save more than one junior and two adult tickets, I let go of my mum’s hand I’d been squeezing tightly to examine the laminated label that rested proudly in the mahogany grave of the Diplodocus, a creature I’d only heard of in the Science books my dad so tirelessly thrust upon me since day one. Though my reading wasn’t as good as my mum had hoped it would be, I could contently see that this Diplodocus was descended from the Jurassic Period (something that meant nothing to me at the time except a small reminder in my innocent mind to ask my father about it) with its name meaning Double Beam in Neo-Latin. It fascinated me immensely and it wasn’t till my mother lifted me under my arms and rested me against her swollen stomach that I realized all the other treasures that lay amongst us.
We explored the Museum for what seemed like days, until Megan began to whine and my mother said her ankles hurt, so my father hoisted me onto his shoulders slipped my little sister into her pram and escorted us out of our new found bliss, promising that I’d soon return to the heart of Britain.