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Today I almost got locked in an art gallery.
In Braintree Town Hall, there is a small art gallery. (It's basically one room, and occasionally the very small room next to it.) It's almost always worth a visit; the exhibitions change on a regular basis (every couple of weeks, it seems). As I'd got the 9am bus into town, only to (re-)discover that the library was closed on Fridays from 9am to 10am for 'computer training', I had a look around for the sign outside saying what it was, to check it wasn't the same as last time. There was no such sign, so I wandered cautiously in, but the doors were open and there were pretty watercolours on the wall, so I went and had a look at said pretty watercolours (and pencil 'sketches' (I hesitate to call them 'sketches' because they were as detailed as, say, a woodcut) and oil paintings, further in). I'd been there a couple of minutes when a man walked in and informed me that it wasn't technically open yet (he indicated the back wall where some of the paintings were not up yet, just leant against the wall, and the table which had screws and things on) but as I was here I could have a look around anyway.
He pottered around for a bit, and then a lady in a red skirt-suit who instantly won the Most Powdered Face and Most Ridiculously Posh Voice awards came in and was awfully sorry about parking her car in the car-park and going off to London all day but it was at the back and she was sure it would be all right as she wasn't blocking anyone in or anything. He nodded at her, and then carried on for a bit, and then left. I continued to look at the pretty pictures, and the next thing I knew, the door was being summarily closed and locked! I raced over to the door to see the man walking away, so I pounded on it and looked anxious and thankfully he heard me and came back and unlocked the door again. "That was a bit of luck," he said. "Sorry, I forgot you were in there. That would've been something to put in your memoirs - getting locked in the art gallery!"
In Braintree Town Hall, there is a small art gallery. (It's basically one room, and occasionally the very small room next to it.) It's almost always worth a visit; the exhibitions change on a regular basis (every couple of weeks, it seems). As I'd got the 9am bus into town, only to (re-)discover that the library was closed on Fridays from 9am to 10am for 'computer training', I had a look around for the sign outside saying what it was, to check it wasn't the same as last time. There was no such sign, so I wandered cautiously in, but the doors were open and there were pretty watercolours on the wall, so I went and had a look at said pretty watercolours (and pencil 'sketches' (I hesitate to call them 'sketches' because they were as detailed as, say, a woodcut) and oil paintings, further in). I'd been there a couple of minutes when a man walked in and informed me that it wasn't technically open yet (he indicated the back wall where some of the paintings were not up yet, just leant against the wall, and the table which had screws and things on) but as I was here I could have a look around anyway.
He pottered around for a bit, and then a lady in a red skirt-suit who instantly won the Most Powdered Face and Most Ridiculously Posh Voice awards came in and was awfully sorry about parking her car in the car-park and going off to London all day but it was at the back and she was sure it would be all right as she wasn't blocking anyone in or anything. He nodded at her, and then carried on for a bit, and then left. I continued to look at the pretty pictures, and the next thing I knew, the door was being summarily closed and locked! I raced over to the door to see the man walking away, so I pounded on it and looked anxious and thankfully he heard me and came back and unlocked the door again. "That was a bit of luck," he said. "Sorry, I forgot you were in there. That would've been something to put in your memoirs - getting locked in the art gallery!"
