Yesterday, while staying in my home town of Wellington, New Zealand, I visited an historic house constructed in the 1800s. The ‘Colonial Cottage’ had housed children and grandchildren of the original settlers who built it, until it was bequeathed to the city in the 1960s.
As we came down a set of narrow steps and through an old wooden door, our guide informed us that we were now stepping into the ‘wet kitchen’. In the next few moments, I was about to find myself face to face with a dead rabbit, his perfectly preserved body hanging from the ceiling as part of the educational tour.