Egyptologist

Like many people I have been an Egyptologist since I saw images of pyramids and mummies for the first time.

I was aided in this by my mother whos notion of bedtime stories was to retell things she had read in the paper, books she was reading interwoven with fragments of her own childhood - magical magical stories!

I remember one favourite story was the opening of Tutanhkamon's sarcophogus. My mother would weave the darkness, the smell, the excitement and terror into a story of wonder and she would alway finish with the incredible - and as they lifted the heavy gold mask from his face they saw the flowers his child wife had placed on his chest as she kissed him good bye for the last time. And as they watched in the flickering candle light the wreathe crumpled and disappeared.

I still love that story - even though I have to tell it to myself now!

This is a huge entrance to the real point of this story!!

When I was living in London I used to spend a lot of time in the museum - especially in the room of the mummies - yet again I would wish I read the texts - never, of course, following up that thought with the sheer drudgery of learning to read them.

Some days I could sit almost alone in the room and examine the images and forms to my heart's delight. On other occasions there would be queues of people wedged into the room weaving their way slowly around the cases.

The noise and smell of the crowd was intense in these moments and one day I had this thought - which I treasure for many spurious reasons!

The wealth and beauty of Egypt was spent to remove these people from the everyday of life and this process continued into the construction of vast palaces for them to spend eternity - in the peace and space great wealth can buy.

How much must it suck to spend this part of your eternity packed like sardines in the museum mummy room being gawked at by the same populace you had so carefully removed yourself from!!