The trip to the Natural History Museum began with excitement, confusion, and someone losing a shoe before 8am.
The someone was Marmaduke.
Naturally.
“Where is your other trainer?” his mum asked, standing in the nursery doorway holding a lunchbox and the expression of a woman already emotionally exhausted by breakfast.
Marmaduke looked down.
Looked surprised.
“…Oh.”
Barry immediately joined the investigation.
“Did you leave it at home?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you wear it yesterday?”
“I think so.”
Miss Patel took a deep breath.
The coach hadn’t even arrived yet.
Eventually, the missing trainer was discovered inside Marmaduke’s nursery bag underneath a banana and a toy police car.
No one asked why.
Some mysteries protect themselves.
“Right,” Miss Patel announced as the children lined up, “today we are visiting the Natural History Museum, as part of International Dinosaur Day.”
The children cheered.
Barry cheered loudest.
“DINOSAURS!”
“Yes,” said Miss Patel.
“REAL dinosaurs?”
“Well… dinosaur skeletons.”
Barry gasped. “Skeleton dinosaurs.”
Marmaduke looked concerned.
“Are they dead?”
“Yes.”
“Completely?”
“Yes.”
Marmaduke thought about this.
“…That’s sad.”
The coach journey through London was loud from the moment it began.
Children singing.
Children shouting.
Children asking impossible questions.
“Can dinosaurs swim?”
“Did dinosaurs eat chips?”
“Could a dinosaur fit inside our classroom?”
“No,” Miss Patel answered firmly.
Barry looked thoughtful.
“…Maybe the small ones.”
By the time they arrived, Miss Patel already looked like she needed a sit down and a biscuit.
The museum stood huge and grand in front of them.
Barry stared up at the building.
“…This is where the dinosaurs live.”
“They do not live here,” Alfie would have said.
Alfie was at school.
Which meant nobody sensible was present.
Inside the entrance hall, the children froze in amazement.
Huge ceilings.
Echoing footsteps.
Gigantic skeletons towering overhead.
Parents taking photos.
Tourists looking alarmed at the approaching nursery group.
Barry looked up at the enormous dinosaur skeleton.
Its ribs stretched high above him.
Its jaw full of terrifying teeth.
Its tail longer than Dad’s patience during tax season.
Barry whispered, “It’s massive.”
Marmaduke whispered back, “It’s hungry.”
Miss Patel gathered the children carefully.
“Remember,” she said, “we look with our eyes.”
Barry nodded.
“Not our hands.”
Barry nodded slower.
“Definitely not sandwiches.”
Barry blinked.
“…Why sandwiches?”
Miss Patel narrowed her eyes.
“Just a feeling.”
The children wandered through the dinosaur gallery in pairs.
Barry and Marmaduke moved slowly beneath the giant skeletons.
Every few seconds one of them gasped dramatically.
“That one has claws!”
“That one has spikes!”
“That one looks angry!”
“That one looks constipated,” Barry added thoughtfully.
Miss Patel coughed loudly.
At the famous moving T-Rex exhibit, the lights dimmed.
The dinosaur roared.
Several children screamed.
One child burst into tears immediately.
Another shouted, “IT KNOWS MY NAME!”
Marmaduke grabbed Barry’s arm.
“It’s alive!”
“It’s not alive,” Barry whispered bravely, while also backing away slightly.
The T-Rex moved its head.
Barry froze.
“…It’s quite convincing though.”
Miss Patel smiled reassuringly.
“It’s only a model.”
The T-Rex roared again.
Miss Patel smiled slightly less confidently.
After the dinosaur room came the fossil displays.
Rows and rows of bones.
Ancient creatures preserved in stone.
Barry stared at them thoughtfully.
“…They all look skinny.”
Marmaduke nodded.
“Very skinny.”
“They need feeding.”
Miss Patel, several metres away, suddenly felt nervous without understanding why.
Lunch took place in the museum café.
This was ambitious.
Very ambitious.
The room was packed with families, school groups and exhausted adults carrying trays.
Barry opened his packed lunch.
Cheese sandwich.
Crisps.
Apple slices.
One squashed biscuit.
He looked at the sandwich thoughtfully.
Then looked back towards the dinosaur gallery.
Marmaduke noticed immediately.
“What are you thinking?”
Barry lowered his voice.
“…The dinosaurs are bony.”
“Yes…”
“They probably need food.”
Marmaduke gasped softly.
“You’re right.”
This was all the encouragement Barry needed.
Which, sadly, was not much.
“We should help them,” Barry whispered.
“We should,” Marmaduke agreed.
“Otherwise they’ll stay skinny forever.”
Nearby, Miss Patel was trying to stop another child from drinking paint water from the activity table.
This gave Barry a dangerous amount of freedom.
Very quietly, Barry wrapped half his sandwich in a napkin.
Marmaduke stood guard.
“Operation Dinosaur Lunch,” Barry whispered.
Marmaduke nodded solemnly.
“For the hungry skeletons.”
The boys slipped away from the café.
Down the corridor.
Back towards the dinosaur hall.
Tiny educational criminals.
The giant skeleton loomed above them once more.
Barry looked up with determination.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered to the dinosaur.
“We brought food.”
Marmaduke pointed upwards.
“How will it eat?”
Barry considered this carefully.
“…Maybe we throw it.”
This was, objectively, a terrible plan.
Barry climbed carefully onto the low barrier beside the display.
Marmaduke watched nervously.
“I don’t think we’re allowed there.”
“We’re helping.”
“That’s true.”
Barry held up the sandwich.
The dinosaur remained completely uninterested (adults might say, stationary).
Mostly because it had been dead for millions of years.
“Here you go!” Barry announced.
And tossed the sandwich.
For one glorious second, the sandwich flew beautifully through the air.
Like a heroic cheesy frisbee.
Then—
It hit the dinosaur rib cage.
Bounced off.
And landed directly on the polished floor in front of a tour group.
There was silence.
A long, echoing silence.
A museum guide blinked slowly.
“…Did that child just feed the diplodocus?”
Marmaduke whispered, “It missed.”
Barry looked devastated.
“He’s still hungry.”
Miss Patel arrived at exactly the wrong moment.
Or possibly the right one.
Depending on perspective.
She saw:
- Barry on the barrier
- Marmaduke holding sandwich crusts
- A cheese sandwich on the museum floor
- Several shocked tourists
- A deeply unimpressed museum guide
She closed her eyes briefly.
“Barry,” she said calmly, “why is there sandwich near the dinosaur?”
Barry looked genuinely upset.
“Because he’s too bony.”
The museum guide pressed his lips together very hard.
A nearby parent snorted with laughter.
Miss Patel guided Barry gently off the barrier.
“Dinosaurs do not need feeding.”
Barry frowned.
“But look at his ribs.”
“He is a skeleton.”
“That means he’s extra hungry.”
Marmaduke nodded. “He hasn’t eaten in ages.”
This was technically true.
Which made it harder to argue with.
Miss Patel crouched down.
“Barry, the dinosaur isn’t alive anymore.”
Barry looked up at the enormous skeleton.
“…Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“It looks expensive.”
“That doesn’t make it alive.”
The museum guide picked up the sandwich carefully with a tissue.
To his credit, he was trying not to laugh.
“You know,” he said kindly, “when dinosaurs were alive, some of them did eat plants.”
Barry brightened.
“See?”
“But not cheese sandwiches.”
Barry thought about this.
“…Maybe they never tried them.”
Eventually the crisis passed.
The sandwich disappeared.
The children apologised.
The dinosaur remained unfed.
Miss Patel kept Barry and Marmaduke significantly closer for the rest of the trip.
This was wise.
Very wise.
In the butterfly exhibit later that afternoon, Barry pressed his face against the glass.
“This place has everything.”
Marmaduke nodded. “Best museum ever.”
A butterfly landed briefly on Barry’s shoulder.
He froze with delight.
Miss Patel froze with fear.
Mostly because whenever Barry became very still, it usually meant something worse was coming.
But for once—
Nothing disastrous happened.
The butterfly fluttered away peacefully.
Barry smiled softly.
On the coach home, the children were exhausted.
Sticky.
Happy.
Emotionally overwhelmed by dinosaurs.
Miss Patel counted heads three separate times before allowing herself to relax slightly.
Barry leaned sleepily against the window.
“I liked the big dinosaur.”
Marmaduke yawned.
“I liked the dead shark.”
“You mean the fossil.”
“Yes.”
Miss Patel sat down heavily.
“What did we learn today?”
Barry answered immediately.
“Dinosaurs are hungry.”
“No.”
“Skeletons are very bony.”
“…Technically yes.”
“And museums don’t let you feed exhibits.”
“Correct.”
Back home, Mum asked, “How was the museum?”
Dad looked up from the sofa.
“What happened?”
“…Barry fed a dinosaur,” blurted out Marmaduke.
Dad blinked.
“I’m sorry?”
“With a sandwich.”
Barry defended himself immediately.
“He looked thin.”
Marmaduke nodded. “Very ribby.”
Alfie looked horrified.
“You fed museum property?”
“It was only cheese.”
“That is not the point.”
Dad slowly put his tea down.
“…Did the dinosaur eat it?”
Barry sighed sadly.
“No.”
And as bedtime finally arrived, one thing was certain:
The Natural History Museum had taught the children many important things.
About science. About fossils. About history.
And most importantly—
That if Barry ever met a dragon, dinosaur or large skeleton again, someone should probably check his lunchbox first.
Alfie, Barry and Marmaduke Stories 
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