The note reads:
IF YOU HAVE FOUND THIS NOTE YOU MUST BE ENGAGED IN DEMOLISHING ONE OF THE FALSE COLUMNS THAT HAVE BEEN PLACED IN THE FOYER OF THE SAINSBURY WING OF THE NATIONAL GALLERY. I BELIEVE THAT THE FALSE COLUMNS ARE A MISTAKE OF THE ARCHITECT AND THAT WE WOULD LIVE TO REGRET OUR ACCEPTING THIS DETAIL OF HIS DESIGN.
LET IT BE KNOWN THAT ONE OF THE DONORS OF THIS BUILDING IS ABSOLUTELY DELIGHTED THAT YOUR GENERATION HAS DECIDED TO DISPENSE WITH THE UNNECESSARY COLUMNS.
Well, that certainly satisfies the curiosity I’ve long held regarding the issue of the false columns. Carry on then.
It’s a problem that’s comes up surprisingly often for many of us, I’m sure. Just last night, I mistook a false column for a large animal, and only after charging the beast multiple times with my trusty umbrella did I come to realize I’d been duped yet again by big column.
You’re not alone in that my good chap. In my time I’ve had a series of rows with false columns. The things tend to loom quite suddenly when one least expects them.
Apologies for the late response, old bean, but I’ve only just returned from hospital.
I’m afraid it’s my wife, you see; she was diagnosed with false column disease. We grieved in the waiting room, and by the time we made it back home, it’d already begun to take effect. She’s gone now.
I will miss her company, but I must say the structural integrity of my domicile, in particular the patio that she tended to favor, appears to have increased precipitously, at least on a surface level.
Sadly it is more common these days. Upstanding of you, of course, to support her so in the end.
My own girl, I simply cantilever side, despite having just met her. It’s ionic, but by all appearances she’d crumble without me.
Simply dreadful the degree of false columnry one finds in even a modest house of late.
