I think my mother and I have a proud history when it comes to geek trips, and today we continued the trend by visiting the London Transport Museum in its swanky new form. It’s a lovely place, complete with the tubes and buses of yesteryear, all ready for visitors to immerse themselves in and resurrect fond childhood memories, despite the fact that in any other context they’d be wingeing that they weren’t actually going anywhere or that there had been a queue. In the all-important shop – the perfect place to get a new mug after an unfortunate incident last term involving a little bit of smashing – I opted for a London Overground design on the basis that it represents the latest and greatest step in sneaky railway re-nationalisation (sortof), and I’ll certainly drink to that.
But don’t think this was all! No, for we then continued on to the Royal Courts of Justice to pop in and out of a few cases. In one of the trials – on immigration – we found ourselves rather unfortunately plonked right in the middle of the prosecuting team, and had to keep looking around as if we hadn’t noticed that they were now conducing hurriedly whispered conversations right through us. Aw, justice: a cheaper alternative to the cinema!