The exceedingly warm pair of gloves turned up - they were in tiny shreds spread out under our bed where a certain four-legged f(r)iend who shall remain nameless had a great old time. You get used to that.
So yeah, the grumpy guy at the Black Diamond. The place itself is a huge and scary-pointy extension to the Royal Library. It looks something like this:
See how cold it was? (Thanks to my wife for the photo, although the dodgy scan is entirely my fault.)
I’ve been noticing buildings, lately, small cool ones and big impressive ones. Depsite not being able to do much (on account of not being readers), we spent a ridiculous amount of time inside. This was partly because it was warm and partly because we couldn’t resist the urge to photograph the inside repeatedly. Also, both the guidebooks and the information leaflet promised that the National Photography Museum was in there somewhere.
Which brings us to another grumpy wee man: he told us that there is no National Photography Museum, rather that it was a (long-since ended) temporary exhibition that shouldn’t be in the publicity anymore. From his manner, I guess he was tired of explaining this to tourists.
Of course, I’m left wondering if he was having a laugh at our expense. Either that, or there was some sort of language barrier at work. However, the phrase “That is wrong. There is no museum.” is pretty unequivocal. Maybe someone will notice that their visitor figures are down.