You know when you have to keep quiet about something, even though the words are around inside your head, and you have all the pictures in 640x480
THEN THE MOMENT COMES
AND YOU KNOW GO FOR IT!
I have reached that moment. No doubt my Cheshire sibling has been waiting for me to say a few words about the time we waited in a well disciplined and highly organized queue to see the Staffordshire Hoard.
We snaked curiously past glass fields of cow creamers, water softeners, beautiful tiles and 50's crockery , we knew the people standing behind us and ahead of us just as St Patrick knew his breastplate.
The Hoard of small and crumpled, twisted and bittersweet gold bits delighted us all. We stood leaning over the display cases, learning together by talking, asking questions, viewing and reviewing, in an all but perfect learning environment. Touch would have been good. Thousand of fragments of bits of swords , and stuff, all hidden for hundreds of years just beneath the good red earth have now been saved for the nation.
I think they should go back to their rightful owner, for they have got it wrong. They are not the remains of an Anglo Saxon hoard. They are 2000 years older than that. I suggest they were left by the Staffordshire Mug people for their cousin Eileen to recycle . She of course after all the ritual and assaying was going to order the Production of a limited edition of Tea Lights. She just has to finish the book she has started ,