Yesterday, during the gallery refurbishments, the builder called to me from the top of the stairs, “Mark!”. Oh no, I thought, suddenly anxious about being hailed, what has been found now? Are the floorboards going to fail and the upper gallery will soon become the lower gallery, or is this signifying a delay? I answered tentatively, “Yes?” I need not have been worried for it was a heartwarming story and nothing to be anxious about at all. He said, “I have just found on the wall my father’s signature from when he undertook work in this same gallery back in 1977.” And true enough, there was his father’s name signed in pencil on the old plaster work from nearly forty years previous, John Noot, 14/10/77. The builder was chuffed to bits and I told him that work had been undertaken in the past by our family historian on the Noot family and that he could have a look at the family tree when there was a spare moment. It was a lovely moment and just goes to prove that even in the fabric of the building, a museum can be the keeper of memories for everyone and walls truly can talk.