Just home from a fun tea and biscuits where a commission has been finally hammered out. Joe Lidster went through his list of great concerns, and we've fingered it into swimmingity. So hooray.
Though I realised on the train home we now can't use the gag about polar bears. Curses. It's time will come.
Also seem to have been commissioned for something else, and contracts are being sent out for things that I'm in charge of. Have had a good-natured disagreement on the paradigm of Han Solo's "I know", but that all seems amicably sorted. And I've begun the painful hatchet where elsewhere we're far too long.
Of no lesser importance, we also know who'll be goosing with us on Christmas Day. And we merely await the Radio Times to schedule cheese and pudding.
None of which is of any interest to anyone but my brane. If only I had a top sort of fact - which I did, but Nimbos blogged it the same time that he told me.
If only I had someone clever in the building. Oh, hang on...
The Dr says: the establishment of the British Museum in 1753 was funded by the nation, through a "dubiously run" (she says) national lottery.