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I unwrapped when I got home in a distinctly different situation than I was when I left - although I had spent the London episode in a tremulous state, to be honest. It just didn’t feel right, being back so soon, being tired, feeling scraped and strange and alone. One of the cross beams gone owt skew on’t treadle, somewhere. When I lathered up that miserable day, washing off the day’s travel but little else, I discovered the scent was potent. And I discovered as well that the stuff hit my eyes like beestings. It was the last insult of the day, standing there in the shower, bent over, wincing, trying to cry out the damned soap. I would burn my eyes again when careless, but for the last two weeks I’ve been able to wash without staggering around in the shower stall like Tiresias. Tonight after the run the final thin sliver dissolved into uselessness, and an era was brought to a conclusion. Somehow put a parenthesis around things. It was good soap, too. I will buy more when next I am in London. Can’t have it shipped to the US, alas I feel as if I should leave a review, because it’ll probably be the only one. I might be contacted by the people in charge of Museum Soap, eager to chat. “So, this may seem odd, but we’ve never actually heard from someone who used it, and -“ “Oh I understand completely. Believe me, I was a bit surprised to find it was actual working soap, and not a brick of hard lard wrapped in scented paper. I know how these things go.” “Brilliant! Well we’re very excited to know it was used as intended. Penny in particular was dancing around all morning when we got your review, because she’s been saying for years that someone will use it, someday, somewhere. Bit of a dreamer, that one, but she kept us all hopeful. So. How did you like it?” “Magnificent lather, as I said in the review. Kept its squarish contours for half the life of the bar. Exceptional scent without cloying or artificial note. I do believe I said that with practice, the bar’s ability to inflict pain could be managed.” “Yessss, well, we do apologize for that, but as you know we don’t test our products on animals. I mean we did, but then we couldn’t bear their expressions, so we just stopped. We decided that once you realized the soap hurt, you’d avoid the postures or gestures that made it likely you’d get the suds in your eyes. No permanent damage, we trust? No streaks when you look at a white wall, indicating corneal bleach damage?” “The only complaint I have is that I must return to the museum to buy more.” “Splendid! Well, thank you again for the review, and if there’s anything -“ “I said the only complaint I have is that I must return to the museum to buy more.” “Yes, you did say that.” “Return. To the Museum. After a plane trip. Over the ocean. From the states.” “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.” “If I send you a tenner will you mail me some more?” “I’m sorry, that’s not something we do, I’m afraid.” “I see. Well, I have your staff directory up on my computer, and I’m looking at a Penny Parkington in Soaps and Lotions. I’ll wager that if I sent her a tenner, she’d mail me another. And I’ll bet if I tell the Mail or the Sun that you declined to send a Yank fan the soap and he had to appeal to Penny, they’d turn it into a ridiculous story about a cruel indifferent manager and the free spirit who went against her mean girl boss to make a V&A fan happy, and everything would be uncomfortable around the office for a while. I’m just gaming this out. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of the tabs flew me over and did a story, nice photo of Penny handing me a bag of soap, Christmas saved and all that, and you nowhere in the picture except making a boring statement about museum shipping policy. But I don’t want any of that to happen. I just want you to rethink your policy about shipping to the United States.” “Sir, it’s the same soap they sell at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts. It’s the same soap in every museum. Except the Tate Modern. That’s made of goat dung.”
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It’s 1900. Another town you’ve never heard about. It won’t be in Main Streets because it doesn’t have much of a downtown - oddly spread out for a town that old.
The first page of the novel. How long until you find a word or reference that baffles?
It seems to have been a popular novel, and he had a couple of plays. But there’s no bio available anywhere. Complete free audiobook version here!
“Fell asleep on the window sill."
Sure.
Wait a minute now There's a composer?
It’s “Henry Carey” in other versions. Library of Congress:
The LoC site has some alternate lyrics, which are interesting.
Memorize those and sing them next time and see if anyone notices.
That will do. One more week after this for Chain Store Age. Savor it while you can!
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The Painful Soap of Victoria & Albert is now gone. You may recall that I bought a bar of pine and lavender at the V&A gift shop, intending to do the unthinkable: use it. Most gift soaps are filed away for special uses, which is to say no usage at all. My mother could never use gif soap. It’s too nice. Okay but - oh never mind. My wife bought a half-dozen bars in Majorca for co-workers, and I doubt any were unwrapped. (We still have some. Unwrapped.) I vowed I would use this soap, because I liked the scent. 
