Turned out that 2pm on a Friday was a perfectly pleasant time to wander through the beautifully preserved old rooms, gawp in horror at the probably-stolen-from-ancient-and-preserved-sites mummy tombs and flotsam and jetsam of Roman architecture and wish I was wearing a swoop-worthy bustle to grace the curving staircases.
They also had a small exhibition on the unknown-to-me architectural prowess of poet John Betjeman.
Loved this poster for his book:
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