I never thought that one day I would break into a sweat in a museum.

This afternoon, J and I went to see this at the V&A, because it sounded good; and it wasn’t really that good, apart from the room right at the end before they cunningly ensnare you into the shop-trap and try to sell you crap, like in all museums. I don’t know about you, but when I walk into an exhibition, I put on my serious, almost respectful, I’m-expecting-to-be-enlightened mood.. I think I even squint a bit. But today, in the last room right before the shop full of crap, we could play. Do you know those big; big bouncy balls with tits to hold onto, the ones you sit on and bounce, bounce, bounce? And bounce some more, til you laugh so hard you fall off? So J and I bounced, bounced, bounced through the exhibition, and no-one even stopped us. J fell off.

The rest of the exhibition was rather crap, but we also had a mean game of ping-pong and tickled each other with feathers. We left rather sweaty and dishevelled, especially me, because J doesn’t really have any hair to dishevel.

That’s pretty much all I have to say for myself today.