The British Museum is shrouded in controversy, and for a long time, it was my arch-nemesis. Wherever I went in Mexico, Greece or Cambodia, it seemed the British Museum had already beaten me to the bounty. I would rant long and loud about colonial piracy and academic pillage to anyone who would be unfortunate enough to be within earshot, and I decided from an early age that we were mortal enemies.

That was, until I actually stepped across the threshold of the Great Court and plunged myself into a world of wonders. An instant convert. I’ve since spent hours, days, months in those hallowed halls, studying the Rosetta Stone, ogling at the Elgin Marbles and amazed by the Assyrian sculpture.

Needless to say, on my recent visit to London, I rushed back there to see ‘The First Emperor: China’s Terracotta Army’ exhibition. It was actually one of the main reasons influencing my decision to trip back across the Channel.

I gratefully scooped up an available late-night ticket, braced myself for the crush of the crowd, killed time drinking coffee – and then finally, my time with the Terracotta Warriors had come (no, I hadn’t gone to Xi’an when I was in China, if that’s your next question).

It was fantastic, what more could I say? The details of the sculpture, the grandeur of the First Emperor’s eternal empire, the immense process of construction and creation… and also the madness/genius/vision that would compel one to launch on such a project (Hey, but if the young King of Qin could untie the ‘Warring States’ to become Emperor over a united China, defying death is a comparatively slight task!)

Of course the first thing I was greeted with on my return was Qin Shihuangdi’s men staring back at me. Seems they’re traipsing around the world on a museum tour of duty. Next stop: Pinacothèque de Paris… That’d be about right, wouldn’t it!?!