We went to the Dickens House Mudeum today. We, being the folk who meet at church for lunch on a Tuesday.
It’s a super museum – the house he lived in early in his marriage, where he wrote, I think, three of the books, and several of his children were born.
It is interestingly laid out, well signed, set up in the kitchens at least for children to interact with “stuff” rather than be told “don’t touch”, and with a lot of stairs.
I really enjoyed it.
I have walked past it nearly every day for eight years. I knew it was there. I have encouraged visitors to go.
I have not gone – because I thought I would not be interested.