Supper time chez Gee is rather like a chimpanzees’ tea party, and after tonight’s escapade I was cast back in mind to when my elder daughter (now 10) was a complete and utter dinomane of just four tender years, and I took her to the Natural History Museum in London to see a special exhibition of feathered dinosaurs from China.

I had a reason for seeing these exhibits that was arguably unique – Nature had published most of the papers concerning these creatures, but I had only ever seen the fossils in pictures. So, as you can imagine, I was keen to see them in real life. Or, as the case may be, death.

So there we were. Me, fascinated by the exquisite detail of the delicate bones and the traceries of feathers; and my daughter, whizzing like a stray asteroid around the moodily-lit space.

I paused before a large fossil – Caudipteryx, it was – arranged on a table-top. As I bent over to get a closer look, I became aware of a bright face peering at me from over the opposite rim.

“Dad,” it said. “Did you punish this in Nature?”

“You have no idea” came my reply.

And then we went to lunch. I remember that the Museum Caff did a rather decent Chardonnay.