Once I had settled into my accommodation - two rooms in the attic floor
of a terraced
house not far from the West End Park - I spent a moderately distracting week strolling around the exhibits: the Fine Art and Sculpture Rooms in the Eastern Palace; the thrilling assault to the senses, both aural and nasal, in the Dynamo Shed; the Queen's Jubilee gifts (dull but, presumably, for those that need it, terribly reassuring); a reproduction
of the Bishop's Palace which, upon
investigation with the tip
of my umbrella, revealed itself to be made entirely
of painted canvas; and - my favourite, illicit
haunt - Howell's tobacco kiosk with its wondrous international selection
of cigarettes: Piccadilly Puffs; Shantung Silks; Dinard Dainties; Tiffy Loos!