The First Museum I Fell in Love With: A love Letter to Weston Park Museum

Welcome back to the History Nook.

Today we’re stepping back into my personal timeline—to the moment a young Signa first fell in love with a museum.

So grab your favourite mug, find a soft space to curl up, and let's wander a little deeper into the past.

On September 6th, 2025, Weston Park Museum in Sheffield will be celebrating its 150th birthday—and I can think of no better time to tell you why this museum is so special to me.

It’s another early morning. My hospital appointments were always scheduled first thing, so I’d miss as little school as possible. These check-ups had become routine—I had them every six months—so by then, everything about them felt matter-of-fact. What I do remember, though, is the boredom. Sitting in a bland waiting room, waiting for eye drops to take effect, was not my idea of fun.

Then it happened. My mum, clever woman that she is, asked the staff if we could go across the road to the museum and return in an hour. They agreed. Off we went.

I had never been to Weston Park before, and truthfully, I don’t remember much about that very first trip. What I do remember is how much I loved it. Apparently little Signa loved it so much that, from then on, I would always ask to visit the museum after hospital appointments.

As my love for history grew, my visits to museums slowed for a time. In my teens, I found them harder to enjoy. Having low vision meant I needed time to really see and understand the objects. School trips were fine—I always had a staff member supporting me, essentially being my eyes. But on my own? It was harder.

That changed as I grew older, and as museums became more accessible for visually impaired visitors. I had been volunteering at another museum for a couple of years when I saw that Weston Park was looking for volunteers to help with their handling collection. I had plenty of experience in this—and I knew instantly that I wanted to be there.

Nine years later, I’m still with them. And those nine years have been some of the best of my life. Weston Park Museum became my safe place, my home from home. Its objects became my friends. I’ve never felt more like myself than when I’m walking those galleries in my Viking kit.

I can’t deny that the people made the place as special as the objects. I’ve made lifelong friends among volunteers and staff, and had unforgettable conversations with visitors. One visitor even gave me a Mjolnir pendant that I still wear today—a small reminder of the warmth and generosity I found there.

Weston Park Museum gave me a beginning. And in many ways, it still feels like home.

Thank you for reading—I hope you enjoyed your time in the History Nook today.

Until next time: stay curious, and keep warm.

🐾 A Footnote from Index: 🐾

Hospitals sound dreadful. Museums sound acceptable. But next time, just take me straight to the Viking kit section, thank you very much.