The Cloakroom

I have just had what was probably the most stressful morning I have spent at the RA.   I was working in the cloakroom on a wet Saturday morning during one of the busiest exhibitions we have ever had.   I had forgotten how completely cack handed I am.   Also, I had never experienced how many coats people expect to leave – coats, jackets, bags, rucksacks, newspapers, gloves, scarves, umbrellas and hats (what to do with the hat ?).   It’s nearly impossible to find the sleeves on the more elaborate coats, which most of them are, in a jungle of fake fur.   Then, the bags go in lockers while the coats go on hangers.   After a bit, the place fills up so it’s hard to find a hanger.   As one takes the hanger out, the coat next door falls off.   Someone asked me if I was looking for diamonds in the pockets.   On the contrary, I was just trying to find a way to hang her coat up.   It made me full of admiration for the calm and sang froid with which the others – artists – behind the counter operated.


7 thoughts on “The Cloakroom

  1. Rod Harper (husband of Sara Feilden) says:

    I can personally attest to the keenness with which the Chief Executive brought to the job, being the proud owner of a coat personally put away him. Even though it was only 10 mins into the job he was working that whirly coat hanging machine with a flourish. Unfortunately my wife neglected to collect the retrieval token, but again enterprise was shown in that he sprinted up the stairs brandishing it in a professional way, thereby avoiding a tricky situation. Some 90 mins later when heading off to collect our coats we had a wager that he would no longer be in post , but no, there he still was, perhaps looking a little less sprightly but I have to say everything was returned in an exemplary manner

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