What is a museum? I’m guessing this isn’t something that keeps you awake in the wee, small hours although, as always, I’m prepared to admit the somewhat unlikely possibility that I could be wrong. I think it may have happened once. A museum, certainly in this country, is actually a legal thing which means that people can lend or give or bequeath you stuff and get tax breaks. Obviously not the tat you’ve got stashed in your attic, unless Her Majesty is still avidly reading my weekly musings.

The lovely Strawberry Hill House is technically a museum although visitors have frequently noticed that the rooms are, by and large, empty. Legal jargon, not for the faint hearted. Your average visitor still harbours what we now know are entirely misplaced expectations. Small print is not for everyone. Anyway, well up to speed on this legal nicety and with my usual level of open-mindedness I went to a new museum this week, the Design Museum. Previously sited somewhere called Thames Shad, which I need hardly add is south of the river, it has relocated to the far more accessible Kensington. What could go wrong?

At the risk of offending readers, and although I can genuinely claim that some of my best friends are architects, I have to blame the man in charge of designing it. Doubtless he got the brief, read it at speed and thought it said ‘Design a Museum’ rather than Design Museum. Usual novice mistake and at the risk of appearing sexist (Some of my best friends are men etc) that is a very masculine shortcoming. ‘Instructions da da da’ they think, snatching up a pencil and then wondering why there are still bits left over at the end.

The building itself is indeed very striking with some lovely designery touches, like light-up handrails and seats in the stairs but unfortunately there isn’t much to see and what there is on display is still stuffed in the attic. I suspect a lot of people abandon the attempt to reach it. Award winning use of a large space being turned into a poky little room with not much in it.

So today’s invaluable advice is don’t bother to do more than take a quick peep in the door, even the shop is rubbish, and then hot foot it to a very good tapas restaurant just down the road. It being December I have now left the arid zone that was Dry November and taken to festive drinking. Let’s hope I don’t make an exhibit of myself this year.