I went to the British Museum with my youngest adult daughter and her partner recently – and we were all shocked.
I’d been to the institution many times when I lived in London until two decades ago, and let’s just say there had never been any shortage of imperial plunder to shock and anger me. But the notable thing about our shared reactions when visiting on a recent late spring day was that the collection that so disconcerted us had not greatly bothered me on my last visit in 2003.