Mooch along the Royal Hospital Road in Chelsea, surveying Wren's exquisite Royal Hospital (home of the Chelsea Pensioner) and it's all to easy to drift right by the National Army Museum, its closest neighbour to the west. The entrance has a narrow frontage and the modern block pales beside such distinguished architecture, but don't let first impressions sway your judgement.

The greeting at the desk is pleasant and informative and after a quick bag-check you're free to make your way into the galleries. Visitors to the National Army Museum can wander in any direction they fancy, but I started at early Britain and browsed chronologically - unusual for me. You begin with full-size models of pike-men and cavalry during the English Civil War, working through to the Napoleonic Wars. Here the emphasis is on bringing the history to life, through models and weapons, or official documents of the time. These are further supported by personalised accounts and accoutrements. Within every great conflict there are a myriad of 'small stories' which convey the reality of hardships suffered. Just as every novel about a grand theme must anchor that theme in an individual's plight, or it becomes too large to care about - so these inter-continental battles are illuminated by the very ordinary, as well as the exceptional individuals.

Stories such as 'regimental wives' who travelled to battle with their husbands during the Napoleonic Wars, tended and cared for the regiment - and in one of the highlighted cases, a wife carried her husband on her back when he was injured. Better than to be left with a concealed grenade in his redcoat. The Battle of Waterloo is represented by a huge table-top model, with narration explaining the order of events and overhead spotlights picking out where each element of the battle was conducted. There are numerous interactive exhibits for younger visitors (with plenty of the adults playing along too), but it's really the letters, poems, personal fears being voiced and tightly clasped treasures, which season the historical facts. The galleries also draw attention to past campaigners such as Mary Seacole, the Jamaican nurse whose exceptional contribution to the Crimean War was for over a century, greatly overshadowed by Florence Nightingale's.

The Wellcome Collection is north of the city centre, along the bustling and pedestrian unfriendly Euston Road (the fumes - it does have pavements). One of those segments of London, like Aldersgate or Clerkenwell, that you're unlikely to chance upon, if you're a visitor to town.


The building is on the northern tip of the University College London Campus, (it's part of the university) and houses several permanent collections as well as rotating exhibitions. Medicine Man and Medicine Now, are permanent and there was one other exhibition during my visit -  'Skin'.


Pitched somewhere between a modern art gallery and a museum of medical paraphernalia, the Wellcome Collection stands alone and apart from peer comparison. Much of the collection is grisly, but in an absorbing way. I'm thinking of a long line of surgical amputation saws through the ages (35, according to the leaflet). The one which caught my interest, resembled a carpenter's saw in design - but  on an Action Man scale. My mind reeling at the prospect of which part of the body it was destined for. Lining the opposite wall was a series of paintings (including a 16th century Hieronymus Bosch copy of the Garden of Earthly Delights Triptych) with a helpful booklet to borrow, filling you in on the paintings' background. I should add there are numerous guides and curators available to help with your questions. A strong sense of the altruistic nature of the Wellcome Trust emerges, as you wander.