Lloyd George, writing and risks - in a round about way

I am sitting in the last home of Lloyd George at Llanystumdwy in North Wales. The curved windows of the  library overlook a large walled garden, Barmouth and the Rhinogs just visible above the trees.  To the West, the sea meets the sky in an a hazy pink horizon. I could sit here all day; reading, faffing, playing my new banjo (picked it up on my round about  way here)...

But I can't because I'm here to write.

I'm on a week's course with the Tynewydd Foundation.  The theme is writing and nature, and one of the tutors is Mark Cocker who wrote Crow Country to much acclaim a few years ago. In a round about way Crow Country inspired me to find the starling roost near to my house, so it will be interesting to meet him. And hopefully I'll have the time and inspiration to write some blog posts and finish the assignments for my degree course.

It seems appropriate to be here at Lloyd George's house given the outcome of the  recent election.  As the first Welsh and last Liberal prime minister I wonder if he's turning in his grave at the thought of the alliance with the English Tories?  Or is his ghost restless at the prospect of change, plotting and scheming as I write. I'd put money on the latter.

But either way I ought to sense it here - after all, his grave is down the road, next to a museum dedicated to his life. As I walked past it this afternoon I wondered how many prime ministers have a museum in their memory? No many. I can't imagine there will ever be a Major or a Blair Museum - or Brown one for that matter.

And that, in a round about way too, tells me something about taking opportunities when you have them.

If I think about British politics in last twenty years I genuinely can't put my mind to anything inspiring or different; any positive  legacy that historians will point too. Afghanistan maybe - time will tell - but that's hardly something we set out to achieve. Whenever I have met politicians over the last two decades (and I've met a lot of them)  I have pondered, when and how it was, that their outlook became so pragmatic and cautious. You'd think with the  parliamentary majorities of New Labour they 'd have risked a bit (to be fair to Major he had a tiny majority). But it was almost as if the moment they had the chance, they became too scared , the responsibility was just too much to carry.

I hope my week here isn't like that.  My friend and tutor, John Skinner, used to say there was a fine line between crap and gold, between brilliance and tosh - and we should test that line to the limit; risk everything for the chance of brilliance. John was talking about paintings, not the economy or the future of the welfare state - so I guess he could be a bit more cavalier than Prime Ministers. But the general point stands; there's not much point in having an opportunity if you don't then take it.

As I sit looking over the estuary, I'm hoping I'll take some risks. Hoping I'll try something new and purposeful - something Lloyd George would have approved of.

Objects of desire

Guess where this is?

Today, someone stole my thunder. Specifically, it was the Zoo Archaeologist with her post on good museums for children. So bang went my plan for a quick list and an early night. The only consolation is that as she works in a museum, and presumably knows a thing or two about good ones, it's gratifying that her list is close to the one I'd have written.

I suppose I should add few.

As a child I liked the museum at Keswick, which had a 600 year old cat in a casket. In my home town of Newcastle there is the excellent Hancock Museum where the curator was far sighted enough to let a future blogger spend hours with the collection of moths. Another good one is the National Media Museum in Bradford. And in Swindon there is an excellent collection of contemporary British paintings - a great example of a small town focusing its resources and gradually building a quality collection.

We all have our favourite museums, which will often reflect our interests. I once went to a museum of teapots in Conwy; there is a museum of quilts in Bath that my mother couldn't wait to visit; there are no doubt museums of odder objects than these.

And that's an interesting point, because it seems to me that some museums have forgotten the importance of the object. In fact, they seem determined to put as much between you and the display as possible, explaining and contextualising, instead of letting you get on and look at the darn stuff. It reminds me of poetry readings I've been to, at which the writer feels the need to mumble on about the poem before they recite it - just get on with it for God's sake!

To me, it is the objects that make museums worthwhile - not the gizmos and story boards and pull-this-press-that light emitting displays which take away from why I went there in the first place.

Last year I went to see the Terracotta Warriors at the British Museum. 'Would I like some headphones,' the young guide in branded t-shirt asked as I came into the display room. No thanks, I said, I was here to look, not to listen to something I could read later. The guide looked at me askance; I was the only person in the room without them. Later I asked him a question about the display. He couldn't help me; his job was to give out the brochures.

Art galleries tend to be a little better, though most have irritating plaques beside the pictures; have you noticed how seldom they say anything about the paintings - more usually it as about the artist. And galleries are one of the worst culprits for the headphone phenomenon. The recent Francis Bacon exhibition was full of people in ear candy nodding sagely as they stared at the triptych of George Dyer puking in the bog. Did anyone seriously think that was how Bacon intended them to be viewed?

Worst of all are those museums which seem to have forgotten about objects entirely. The Tate Modern is like this - nice room, pity about the furniture - though it is saved by its visiting exhibitions; the Tate Britain has a vastly superior collection of work.

But sadly, my prize for the 'worst ever museum' must go to Wales and the National Waterfront Museum in Swansea. This multi-million pound white elephant is so full of computers and interactive displays that they have forgotten to put anything in them - it's a sort of virtual museum. Dreadful!

And especially dreadful, because getting it right is not that complicated. What child ever forgets the dinosaurs at the Natural History Museum? Or the model of a Blue Whale in the room next door? And what about the Rosetta Stone at the British Museum, or almost everything at the V&A...

These are what we come to see. It is the objects that inspire. And therein lies their value.