Like Alice, once I stumbled into the rabbit hole, I carried on regardless “…never once considering how in the world to get out again.” Unlike Alice, it was not a tardy bunny that led me on the path to working in Museums but rather a series of things that I’m still trying to work out.
It could have been all those times my Mum took me to museums when I was a child – usually the Natural History Museum after I got used to the animatronic dinosaur that scared the bejesus out of me on my first visit. I was four. You would have been terrified too.
It could have been that trip to Greece a few summers ago; where I was happily wittering away to my travelling companion only to discover that a curator was giving exactly the same tour, just a few artefacts behind us (but that’s another post).
Or, maybe, just maybe, museums are places that I love.
Having recently graduated with a degree in an Arts and Humanities subject (Classics, thanks for asking), I experienced something that is common for all graduates, bar those who already have Life Figured Out or those who are delaying the inevitable by taking the post-graduate qualification route, and that was a feeling of free-fall.
When Alice was falling down the Rabbit Hole to Wonderland she “looked at the sides of the well, and noticed that they were filled with cupboards and book-shelves; here and there she saw maps and pictures hung upon pegs.” In other words, Alice found herself in a museum.
At least, that’s what I like to think.
Needless to say, I did too.