It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a city wherein a famous author has lived, must be in want of a museum.
I dropped in to the Jane Austen Centre earlier this week in the morning. While we waited for the tour to start, we watched a video on a loop. Having to wait made me think the tour would be more tour-ish. Instead, we were in one room for a while while Jane’s family life was explained entertainingly and then in another room to look at a few verified portraits of Jane and a few pictures that might be her. Then we were on our own.
Although Austen is a writer, the museum was a lot heavier in terms of reading than I wanted. That is, her history was on the walls, but it might as well have been in a book or on a website. I like it more when there’s a lot to look at and then the reading complements it.
One of my favorite things was a painting done of Jane by a police artist, Melissa Dring–using the descriptions of her by people who knew her.
I got my picture with Jane.
And with Darcy.
And since I hadn’t had breakfast, I had a savory tea in the beautiful upper-floor teahouse.
