The bedpost was his own. The bed was his own, the room was his own, the heavily thumbed copy of the Museums Journal on the bedside table was his own. Best of all the time before him was his own.
"I will work on the past in the present for the future!" Frank cried as he scrambled off the bed.
"I am here!" whooped Frank, "the shadows of the things that would have been may be dispelled. They will be! I know they will."
"I don't know what to do!" shrieked Frank, both laughing and crying in the same breath. "I am as happier than a Strictly Come Dancing judge, I am as jolly as Wetherspoon's Happy Hour clientele. A merry Christmas to everybody! A happy New Year to the museum world!"
"I don't know what day of the month it is," said Frank. "I don't know how long I've been among the Spirits. I don't know how to run a museum properly. I KNOW NOTHING! Never mind. It's time to learn!"
Running to the window, he opened it and put out his head. No fog, no mist; clear, bright, stirring and cold.
"What's today?" shouted Frank calling to a boy who happened to be passing.
"Eh?" grunted the boy looking at him strangely.
"What's today, my fine fellow?" said Frank.
"Today?" replied the boy. "It's Christmas Day you daft old coot...merry Christmas." But before the boy could escape Frank shouted;
"It's Christmas Day, I haven't missed it. What a night! Do you know the 24 hour convenience shop on the corner?"
The boy nodded slowly, wondering what was coming next.
"Is the 'Unreason's Largest Turkey' still in the window?" said Frank.
"What the inflatable purple one as big as me?" said the boy doubtfully.
"Yes! yes! Go and buy it and bring it here. Here's a tenner, if you are back in less than 10 minutes I'll double it with an extra fiver!" hollered Frank.
The boy was off like a shot.
"I'll tell the boy to take it to Rob Scratchit's, it's twice the size of Slimy Jim."
Soon the boy wrestled the massive turkey back to the flat. Cackling wildly, Frank paid the boy, sent him off to the Scratchit house with the inflatable poultry, with a card that read 'Merry Christmas from Museum of Unreason be at the museum at 9:30am this morning'.
Frank then dressed in his finest tweed, stuffed his pockets with spare museum entrance tickets and went out into the chilly streets of Unreason. He greeted everyone he met with a, "Good morning sir or madam. A merry Christmas to you from the Museum of Unreason. Have tickets to the Museum of Unreason's Christmas and New Year extravaganza."
Frank had not gone far when he came upon the couple of carol singers he had kicked out of the museum the day before, warbling away outside the Unreason scrap metal dealers. "Come come with me, come to the museum and bring your festive cheer to the front steps, I will guarantee a substantial donation to your charity."
The ladies look dumbfounded.
"Don't say anything please," said Frank. "Come now, will you come, you will you be part of the new improved Museum of Unreason."
"We will!" cried the old dears. And it was clear they meant to do it.
Frank went to the church, walked the streets, patted children on the head, invited beggars to the museum. He had never dreamed that any walk..that anything... could give him so much happiness. He then turned towards his nephew's house.
After much hesitation, Frank knocked on the door and went straight in. He surprised his nephew and wife jointly sampling an early morning eggnog latte in the kitchen.
"Why bless my soul," said the nephew (or words to that effect).
"It's I, your uncle Frank. I have come to invite myself to dinner this evening and be a litterbug in your house!" at which point Frank showered the floor with ten pound notes. "Merry Christmas! See you later."
Frank then ran towards the Museum. He wanted to get there before 9:30 and hopefully catch Rob Scratchit coming in late.
And he did it. Somewhat breathless he sat there as the clock struck nine thirty. No Rob. Nine forty-five, no Rob. Frank began to worry, perhaps Rob wouldn't do as he told - for the first time ever.
At 5 minutes to 10, Rob stomped in.
"Hallo," growled Frank, in his usual manner, "What do you mean coming in at this time of day?"
"I'm very sorry, sir, but my wife said I shouldn't come at all," replied Rob."It's Christmas, it's only once a year!" he pleaded.
"Now, I'll tell you what, my friend," said Frank, "I am not going to stand for this sort of thing any longer. And therefore'" he continued, "we need someone to handle all the new visitors for our Christmas extravaganza starting in 35 minutes. It attracts a competitive salary, but they need to start now - can you do it?"
Rob trembled, he momentarily thought of calling the NHS helpline to ask what to do if faced with a case of temporary insanity. Instead he just nodded dumbly.
"A merry Christmas Rob, now lets get this place looking festive and open the doors," said Frank as he clapped Rob on the back, "make this day a success, and I'll immediately raise the starting salary, take on Slimy Jim as an apprentice, and listen to all your ideas for innovative customer friendly displays and events."
Rob gibbered quietly to himself, then set to work with a purpose.
Outside, on the museum steps, the sound of the carol singers came through the door as they began, 'Once in Royal Unreason City'.
People began to gather curious at the change that had overcome Frank and the museum. Revellers on the way to the pub for a quick lunchtime pint before the Christmas turkey stopped and never left, mesmerised by large quantities of Frank's unique gluhwein recipe. Rob's family came along to see where he was and began to join in the family friendly Christmas activities.
"God bless you Frank," said Rob's wife, whilst landing a sloppy gluhwein tasting kiss on Frank's lips.
Frank's nephew and family dropped in and were immediately swept away into the partying throng.
At the end of the day, the Museum of Unreason had had more visitors in one day than ever before.
Frank was better than his word. He kept his promise to Rob. He did it all and infinitely more; and to Slimy Jim, who went on to have a stellar career in the cultural sector, he became his AMA mentor. He became as good a friend, as good a museum manager, and as good a man, as the good old town of Unreason knew. Some people laughed to see the alteration in the museum, but they began to visit out of curiosity, then out of fun, then out of love for the old place. The Museum of Unreason not only began to have visitors, but a friends group, a fundraising group and a town that began to care about its history and past.
Frank himself had no further intercourse with ghostly curators; and it was always said of him, that he knew how to run good Christmas museum events. May that be truly said of all us museum professionals. And so, as Slimy Jim observed,
God Bless Museums, Every One of Them!
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