shewhomust | Entries tagged with archaeology

As if the equinox was a signal, we took not one but two days out, including the first visit of the year to the coast. I though of this at the time as emerging from hibernation, but that would suggest it was the start of something: in fact, I've spent much of the week-and-a-half since then hitting deadlines which had unexpectedly come closer as a result of those two days off. Nonetheless, there are signs that spring is stirring. Starting with those two days off:

On the Friday we accepted J's invitation to lunch and an exhibition about the history of food and drink on South Tyneside: this was to be durham_rambler's birthday treat (deferred). Both J and durham_rambler had morning commitments, but we set off at midday, driving away from the city, where the sun was shining, to the sea fret of the coast. At durham_rambler's request, we lunched at the Marsden Grotto, and gazed out at the grey sky over the grey sea while we ate fishy things. Then on to the South Shields museum, one of those magnificently random local collections:

Here's a selection of their "treasures"; the only information offered beside it is a sign saying "Rory, the South Shields Lion (suggested by Lucas Ball, aged 7)". The exhibition - titled 'SCRAN' - looks very much as if it had been compiled by going through the collection picking out whatever might be fitted onto the theme: a cabinet of Roman pottery, watercolour paintings of local farms, the inevitable collection of Be-Ro cookbooks, oil paintings of local shops, histories of local businesses, pre-eminently Wright's biscuits, whose 'Little Mischief' mascot (a painting by Mabel Lucie Attwell to which they had purchased the rights) is the face of the exhibition. I liked - less for the exhibit itself than for the accompanying label:
Paper bag, mid 20th century, from Duncans grocery: This paper bag is a rare survival, having been used to store wedding cake decorations kept by Elsie Mary Bell (nee Law) who wed John Robertson Law at St Aidan's Church, South Shields on 16 September 1940. Mary's beautiful wedding dress can be seen on display downstairs in the museum's 'Treasures Gallery'.

At the last minute we were tipped off (by another J, as it happens) about an 'archaeology day' organised by the County's Archaeology department: a day of talks in Bishop Auckland Town Hall. Not particularly spring-like - we were indoors all day, and anyway it was raining - but worth the early start: a fine and varied collection of talks (a farmhouse which conceals a Gothick manor house associated with the poet Thomas Gray, mapping the Roman road network, a previously unknown neolithic / bronze age ceremonial site near the Tees, pretty things brought to the Portable Antiquities scheme during the year) and a chance to catch up with J.

There are windows open all over the house. I wish this were a celebration of fine spring weather, but no, it's a sign that the painters have arrived to work on the new windows. The weather is fine enough (the work wouldn't be possible otherwise) but it's still chilly and the house smells of paint.

This means more early mornings - or at any rate, earlier than our usual, up and dressed before the painters are due at eight. Monday morning was a bit of a struggle, no chance of gradual adjustment to Summer Time, but we made it. They - or we - have tomorrow and Friday off, and then they come back on Monday to finish the job. I'm looking forward to seeing how the new windows look once the scaffolding is removed...

We have local elections this year, for the County and Parish Councils. durham_rambler is standing again for the Parish Council, as an Independent. I don't really understand why, because he has, since losing his seat four years ago, continued to attend committee meetings and contribute the the Council's work on planning; and there was no obligation to attend full council meetings, or do anything he didn't feel like. Ah, well, no doubt he has his reasons. So the last few days have been all about submitting his nomination papers and drafting a leaflet, and the month between now and polling day (which is May Day) will be all about delivering those leaflets, with the help of his little band of volunteers. "Does this mean we won't be taking any time out over Easter?" I asked. "Well, we have a lunch date for your birthday..."

To begin at the beginning: / It is spring... I have been re-rereading Under Milk Wood - which is a story for another post. But my, isn't it full of spring!

Friday's talk was organised by something called the North-East England History Research Cluster (this, I think) and was announced as the first in a series, of which the second will be about Sam Green. The first topic was a complete contrast, but also a subject I find interesting Rethinking late 1st Millenium Durham & Lindisfarne.

Since the speaker was David Petts, from the Department of Archaeology, and specifically since he was running the recent excavations on Lindisfarne with DigVentures, I was expecting him to focus on the archaeological evidence, which has produced unexpected signs of monastic life on Lindisfarne after the arrival of the Vikings. And that certainly fed into his argument, but the focus was very much on the historical record (and on physical objeects which were already known). He began his story, as is proper, with the life of Saint Cuthbert. I have read a lot of Lives of medieval saints in my time, as a literary genre, but it takes a historical mind to point out that one reason why Cuthbert became so important is that the Synod of Whitby had taken the Northumbrian church into the orbit of Rome, and Irish patrons like Aidan were no longer appropriate - the community on Lindisfarne needed a new patron, and there was Cuthbert, dying just when they needed him.

The 'origin story' of Durham Cathedral is that when the Vikings raided Lindisfarne in 793, the monks gathered up everything portable (including Cuthbert's remains) and fled, initially to Norham, then wandering all over the North, until they finally came to Durham, a previously empty site. Even discounting the miracles by which the saint made it clear that this was his chosen resting place, the decorative details like the maiden with the dun cow, this doesn't entirely work. You wouldn't, for example, run away from the Vikings by retreating a mere 15 miles up a navigable river. Archaeology is turning up evidence of a continued presence on Lindisfarne, but even before the recent dig, catalogues of Saxon crosses have for some time been pointing to continuity.

Back in the autumn, I visited the local museum in Chester-le-Street, and among the things I learned from the presentation there was that the community of Saint Cuthbert had extensive land holdings, and that the period of wandering may have been more a case of visiting their various properties. David Petts said the same thing, though he didn't confirm that Chester-le-Street was one of them: "I haven't given this talk in Chester-le-Street yet," he said. I'd love to be there when he does. What I wrote at the time was:

... because those monks didn't just break their journey in Chester-le-Street, they stayed for over a hundred years. They built a cathedral here, before anyone had even heard of Durham. The earliest translation of the gospels into English was written here by someone called Aldred, who inscribed his glass between the lines of the Lindisfarne Gospels. King Alfred made a pilgrimage here (as did Athelstan, Canute, and several Scottish kings).

And I concluded "It's very refreshing to have your perspective so thoroughly shaken up." It is, indeed.

On Wednesday, after a short wander around the island and a little light shopping, I was mostly back at base: I bought postcards, I wrote (some of) them.

Yesterday, though, we did something new, and visited Ad Gefrin. Rather than try to compose my own one-line explanation, here's the headline from their website: Ad Gefrin is an "Anglo-Saxon Museum and Whisky Distillery in the heart of Northumberland."

Not far from the Northumberland town of Wooler is - if I have got this right - an Iron Age hill fort called Yeavering Bell. It's a wonderful name, and it is derived from the Celtic 'gefrin', hill of goats. This is not what we visted. Between the hill and the river is another archaeological site - well, actually the whole valley is rich in archaeology, but there is one particular site, spotted by aerial photography in 1949 and excavated in the second half of the twentieth century, which has been identified as the summer palace of the kings and queens of Anglo-Saxon Northumbria. We didn't visit that, either, but the museum and distillery which we did visit is not far away, and celebrates that palace. And when I say 'celebrates' I mean that it has a magnificent new building, and that it goes overboard on the Anglo-Saxon theme. All the notices are in two languages. My favourite is:

( More pictures - )

ETA:( Recent discoveries... )

tl:dr; The site remains an interesting and omportant one, but was not, in the Anglo-Saxon period, altogether as shown at the museum. Bede, on the other hand, is a more reliable historic source than you might expect.

We have been working steadily through the latest series of Digging for Britain, and have at last been introduced to the object on which the vamera lingers so lovingly in the opening title sequence: a three-dimensional geometrical shape, hollow, metal, pierced and decorated with knobs which seem to glow turquoise under the lights. I had no idea what it was, what it is for, or even how big it is...

It turns out to be the star find of the Norton Disney History and Archaeology Group in Lincolnshire, and it is a Roman (or Gallo-Roman or Romano-Celtic) dodecahedron. What is it for? Nobody knows.

Digging for Britain went on at great length about how incredibly rare these are, which made me feel better about not having known what it was. But by "incredibly rare" they mean that this brings the total found in Britain to 33; there are about 120 throughout the northern corner of the Roman Empire (Atlas Obscure has a map). Not to disparage this find, which is a lovely thing, and does appear to be in beautiful condition: finding it would make anyone's year. But there are several along the Roman Wall (there's one at Corbridge).

The Smithsonian magazine article is headlined: Another Mysterious Roman Dodecahedron Has Been Unearthed in England, as if their readers would know all about the things. You can even buy replicas (try Etsy). So yes, maybe I should have known this all along. Anyway, I'm glad to hace learned about it now.

We have wanted to visit the Thornborough henges ever since we first read the very excitable reports of English Heritage opening them to the public. It took a while for us to organise ourselves, what with being without a car, and then meetings and other engagements, not to mention the weather - but we finally decided that Wednesday, while not ideal, would do, and after breakfast and a few unavoidable phone calls, we drove south into Yorkshire.

The car had enough charge to get us there, and a little further, but not home again. After some research, we discarded Plan A (henges first, then lunch at the brewery in Masham) in favour of Plan B (recharge at Booth's in Ripon, and visit the supermarket - and its café - at the same time). Which worked very well.

Early afternoon, between two showers, we reached the henges.

If this looks like a large bump in a field, that's about right. All the stuff in the press releases is absolutely true: it really is (one of) a group of massive earthworks and part of a highly significant ritual landscape. But also, a large bump in a damp, but not particularly muddy, field. Luckily we knew this in advance, and weren't expecting the view of the circles that you need a drone to see. As you round the earthwork, you reach the opening through which you can pass inside the circle; which shows you the size of the thing, and it's pretty impressive.

A less satisfactory photo, but if you look very closely, you may just be able to make out the rainbow. We were overflown by a pair of geese, and saw the whole flock take off, a little further away.

So we were not in any way disappointed. But after we had walked back through the middle of the henge and out the other side, we considered whether to cross the road and visit the other henge in the group, and decided that no, we were ready to return to our nice warm car.

( Not a henge... )

In the Guardian, Charlotte Higgins takes the new Stonehenge exhibition at the BM as an excuse to visit Orkney. Well, you would, wouldn't you?

Tired of Wordle? Then try Wirdle, the Shetland dialect version.

Workers from Northumbrian Water, digging up Newcastle's West Road, have found part of Hadrian's Wall.

They can't have been completely surprised: joining the dots between the known bits of wall made it obvious where it went, more or less. But it's good to narrow that more or less to right here! And there are thigs to be learned, too, about what techniques were deployed where along the Wall.

Yes, it really is called Two Ball Lonnen. Newcastle Libraries explain (but it no longer looks anything like the picture)!

Crossposts: https://shewhomust.livejournal.com/763025.html

Tuesday's talk - the one interrupted by the arrival of our groceries - was by Gary Bankhead, underwater archaeologist. But that description makes me think of people discovering wrecked ships out in the ocean: Gary Bankhead dives in the river Wear, in the middle of Durham City, and most of his finds are tiny, buttons and buckles and lead seals fastened to bolts of cloth as a guarantee of quality. He was speaking to the Fen Edge Archaeolofgy Group, and D., who is a member, had passed on the link. This seems like a roundabout way to hear a talk about Durham, but somehow we've never managed to hear Gary speaking locally - though we have followed his career with interest, and had run into him at the mini-conference about the Lanchester diploma that we attended.

When I say that we have followed his career with interest, I'm not just throwing words around: it's been a more than usually interesting career, starting out with a very odd story, then making a sharp swerve into the minutiae of academic study - and, for the record, he's an entertaining and enthusiastic speaker, too. The first time he dived in the Wear, back in 2007, he came up with a silver trowel presented in 1961 to the then Archbishop of Canterbury by the Bengal Coal Company, when he laid the foundation stone of a church in India. Over the two years that followed, he found more than 30 gold and silver objects presented to archbishop Michael Ramsay, who had moved back to Durham on his retirement: here's the Guardian's version of the story.

Less highly coloured, but even more interesting, are the 13,000 tiny objects which make up the River Wear Assemblage: the knives and spoons, ear wax scoops, bone stylus, seal matrix,lead toys, lead dice, needles, thimbles, spindle whorls, lead cloth seals, coin weights, pilgrim souvenirs, harness equipment, buttons, chains, pendants, finger rings... The Dive into Durham website gives a list, and some tantalising little pictures. There are one or two very pretty things: a seal matrix (which can be matched to the wax seal on one of the cathedral's documents) for example, whose loss must have been keenly felt. But mostly these were not things you would even try to recover from the river, trivial everyday objects: which makes them all the more precious for what they can tell us. An article in the Northern Echo goes into some detail about just one of these stories.

Crossposts: https://shewhomust.livejournal.com/751757.html

Yes, I said "Knight / snail / goat (probably)".

The British Museum has press released information about recent finds, as - I infer - defined as treasure under the Portable Antiquities Scheme. I am not alone in being charmed by this scrap of marginalia sprung to life - or to three dimensional metal reality, at least: the press have been unanimous in homing in on it (the Smithsonian Magazine version has the best pictures and some good links).

Crossposts: https://shewhomust.livejournal.com/749616.html

I know people who meet friends over Zoom for a glass of wine and a chat: I am not one of them. If we can't meet in person, I'm happy to do one-to-one conversation over the phone. But Zooming a group conversation is different. Being able to attend the Graphic Novels Reading Group by Zoom has been a lifeline; we can even show each other the comics we are talking about (admittedly, my eyesight is bad enough that I get only the most general idea of what I am being shown, but it's better than nothing - and I hope others get more benefit from anything I might show them). Tuesday's session was a particularly good one, with interesting conversation about comics, but also - we are notoriously liable to go off topic - not about comics.

We are currently reading Richard Thompson's Cul de Sac. We have been looking at webcomics, and doing our best to have serious discussions about readability, and the potential of the unlimited page, and some of the strips have been quite fun. But Cul de Sac, which is not strictly a webcomic but an archived newpaper strip, is just so good: why have I never come across it before? Nothing revolutionary about the premise: scenes from family life, but beautifully done, and consistently funny. The centre of attention (because she demands to be) is pre-schooler Alice, but how could any bunch of comics geeks resist older brother Petey, who would happily spend his entire life lying on his bed reading his collection of 'Little Neuro' comics? Parents, classmates, teachers all get their moment in the spotlight, but more irresistible even than these star turns is the warmth of the relationships between them.

( Then we went off-topic for a bit... )

S. dragged us back to comics by flourishing his latest purchase: Forbidden Planet are offering Milligan and Fegredo's Girl at a very reasonable price. I was surprised, because I had remembered him as being rather dismissive of it when I contributed it to our discussion of Vertigo titles (funny: it doesn't show up in my post on the subject). But no, he was positive - with reservations - about it, and so was the other person who had read it, and it was a pleasure to share that enthusiasm - so much so, in fact, that here is what I wrote about Girl when it was new (long, long ago, and with page design that is of its time - please make allowances).

Crossposts: https://shewhomust.livejournal.com/748554.html

Bank Holiday weather: Since I never look forward to Bank Holidays as a time to go out and have fun, I can be philosophical about the way Bank Holiday weather is always disappointing: it's not that the weather is bad, it's just that expectations were too high. Not this year; this year the weather really is bad, not only wet but stormy, not only stormy but cold. I had to ask durham_rambler to close the roof window in my study (he's taller enough to reach it easily). Usually I'm the one who insists on opening windows, but I was cold. In August.
Bank Holiday shopping (groceries): I placed an order with Ocado - the second since our retuen from holiday, and a little earlier than I might have done, because the Bank Holiday means that there will be no shopping on Monday, and also because this is the last opportunity to order Waitrose products. I'm intrigued by the Guardian's report of this change, which assumes a number of things that just don't apply in my case: that customers are swayed by the speed of delivery, for example (I wish I could book my slot more than 24 hours ahead, later not sooner) and that customers will defect to Waitrose (if only. I used to shop online at Waitrose, but I haven't been able to get a delivery from them since lockdown). Shopping at Ocado on Friday was like the first days of lockdown, so much was out of stock: clearly they have been running down their Waitrose lines, but M & S goods aren't yet available. Despite which, items which I had managed to order were dropped fron the delivery, without substitution (seriously, Ocado, you don't have any interesting bread?). Yes, I know, first world problems, by which I am no worse than disgruntled.
Bank Holiday shopping (treats): Thoroughly gruntled, though, by a delivery of postage stamps. Buying online from the Royal Mail not only avoids the queues in the Post Office (now situated in the cavernous basement of WH Smith's, and uninviting at best) it also gives you a choice of special issues. Admittedly, you have to buy rather a lot of stamps, but they don't go off, and I shall be able to stick pictures of Roman Britain on all my letters for the foreseeable future. I also have the matching postcards.

On which topic, they've found a 5th century lead chalice covered in Christian graffiti "near Hadrian's Wall" (which means 'at Vindolanda', of course).
Bank Holiday shopping (a surprise): It's so long since durham_rambler backed the Teacups' Kickstarter that we had quite forgotten about it. So the arrival of their new (and, alas, final) album, In Which ... was a lovely surprise. Their internet presence - like their real life presence - is intermittent, but here's a sample (and if you pay attention, you may notice that it's not a traditional song - Rosie wrote it!):

Watch on YouTube
Bank Holiday outing: We went out to Sunday lunch with J, and we took F with us. This is either wild and reckless behaviour, or a first step out of a seclusion that has lasted too long: I have no idea which. J and F have constituted themselves a bubble, so we were only two households at far ends of the dining table; J was part of the extended family in residence at Auchinleck house; in the car the three of us followed advice to wear masks, but drew the line at keeping the windows open (though we ran air conditioning and did not recycle the air). Foolhardiness or excessive caution? Who knows?

Crossposts: https://shewhomust.livejournal.com/728849.html

Five things make me feel better:

Sometimes when things are out of stock, you just have to make do. Ocado didn't have my preferred olive margarine / spread, so I increased my butter order. This morning we buttered our hot cross buns - and there was mirabelle jam, also supplied by Ocado (though I recognise the 'Reflets de France' brand from French supermarkets). Breakfast, best meal of the day ...

I have telephoned an order to Broom House Farm, which was as stressful as I anticipated. I have ordered meat and a lemon drizzle cake, and it's all necessary supplies, but you can't browse when every item involves asking a very stressed person do you have any ... I had anticipated the worst of both worlds, whereby I order by phone and still have to collect, but another customer from our street will be collecting tomorrow, and will have their arm twisted to deliver for us, too (I didn't recognise the name, but do know their next-door neighbour). And maybe another time, you could deliver for them? asked Jane Grey. Good plan ...

Neanderthal string (with thanks to poliphilo for the pointer). There are plenty of small objects with holes in them, which is evidence of their being hung from some sort of cord, but that could be leather or animal sinews: now archaeologists have found some actual, twisted from vegetable fibres, string.

The pandas at Hong Kong zoo are enjoying being left in peace.

When you're lost in the rain in Juarez, And it's Eastertime too ... The Guardian ranks Dylan's 50 best songs in order - and that isn't even one of them. Some surprising decisions, and not just because they have placed songs I don't know above those I do. All together now:
I see my light come shining
From the west unto the east
Any day now, any day now ...

Crossposts: https://shewhomust.livejournal.com/714805.html

The Guardian reports that the DigVentures excavation on Lindisfarne has found a very pretty thing, a blue and white glass hnefatafl gaming piece.

It seems to have emerged from the ground with a tantalising absence of context: "from a trench that has been dated from the eighth to ninth centuries." They don't even know whether to attribute the piece to the Viking raiders who made their first landfall here (the game is associated with the Vikings, as I learned last summer, on Fetlar) or with the Anglo Saxon monastery. I can imagine the Vikings taking a break from burning and looting over a relaxing boardgame, but one of this elegance? The monks must have been importing exotic pigments for the scriptorium, but would they have indulged in personal luxuries like this one? Who knows?

Nor do they comment about where the glass might have come from...

DigVentures functions through a mixture of crowdfunding and volunteers: press coverage of this find is angled to emphasise that it's an archaeologically respectable model, that properly supervised volunteers will not overlook the small but significant items. They must have been delighted that this find was made by the even more extreme non-professional, not even a seasonal volunteer, but the mother of one of the volunteers, who joined the dig just for one day. I can't help feeling for that volunteer, though.

Crossposts: https://shewhomust.livejournal.com/707288.html

The cinema at the Gala theatre doesn't often show the interesting documentaries I read about in the reviews: but they weren't going to miss Daniel Draper's The Big Meeting. I enjoyed it, and there's a lot of good stuff in it, but I can't review it; it'd be like reviewing your friend's family album: "Oh, look, there's so-and-so; where was this picture taken? that's not a very flattering one of so-one-so; my, he's in a lot of the pictures, isn't he?" The Guardian's Peter Bradshaw liked it (and gave it four stars), but his favourite bit was art historian Robert McManners talking about mining art, which is all good stuff but not about the Gala. Which I think is what I just said...

Robert McManners was - of course - filmed in the Mining Art Gallery in Bishop Auckland. We were there ourselves on Thursday, to hear poetry and publishing co-operative Vane Women reading their poems inspired by a recent exhibition at the Gallery, on the theme of Women at the Coal Face. We'd expected it to be a rather downbeat event, as we'd heard last week of the death of founder member of the group (and one of my favourite poets) Joanna Boulter. What we learned, though, was that although Joanna had been diagnosed with dementia, she had emerged from this, and had lately been writing again, and there id hope of another book. She is still missed, but the evening was more cheerful than I had expected.

A recent trio of BBC programmes, with the unpromising title Raiders of the Lost Past brought together three archaeological discoveries on the eve of the Second World War. We have watched the first two (of three) and I am not convinced that the coincidence of date is significant, but programme one was worth watching, just for the loving close-ups of the Sutton Hoo treasure. (It is probably not the fault of presenter Janina Ramirez that the camera loves her, and lingers on her gazing raptly at each item, with the focus shifting between the watcher and the watched.) It was Lucy Mangan's review of episode two which alerted me to the series, and my knowledge of its subject matter barely amounts to that picture looks familiar. It is, apparently, the oldest piece of figurative art ever discovered, lovingly reconstructed from smithereens. Which is interesting, but the (not quite so old, but no so as you'd notice) horse from the Vogelherd cave is visually more appealing. The cave is now part of a UNESCO World Heritage site, but the little horse is in the museum in Tübingen (which caught my eye because Tübingen is twinned with Durham).

The dilemma of the restaurant critic: Zoe Williams struggles to describe food that is just tasty:
It's not an angel dancing on your tongue; it didn't crack open your understanding of what a vegetable should be, or its meaning in the universe; it wasn't like an explosion, or an epiphany; it didn't have the deep, resonating familiarity that brought you so close to the quiddity of a steak that you felt as if you could speak cow just by eating it. It's just tasty - or quite tasty.

I don't even want my food to be an explosion, or an epiphany, or an angel dancing on your tongue - tasty is what I'm looking for (and good company and a glass of wine).

Crossposts: https://shewhomust.livejournal.com/695692.html

This is the diary entry I should have written a week ago, when it would have been about 'yesterday': I don't suppose that would have made it any more interesting, but at least it would have been fresh! Nonetheless, because this is my diary, and I'm allowed to use it to record things I am otherwise likely to forget...

In the morning we went to the Bede Museum at Jarrow Hall for a talk about the archaeological dig at Coldingham, which we visited last summer from Lindisfarne. It's a long time since we were at Jarrow Hall, and the museum, which used to occupy a couple of rooms in the Hall itself, now has its own new building: we must come back, we said, and visit properly. This time, though, we were only there for the lecture, though as a bonus we were able to enjoy S.'s company (this shouldn't have been a surprise, as she runs the mailing list from which we learned of the lecure) and bask in the reflected glory of Dame Rosemary Cramp, fresh from celebrating her 90th birthday: I wouldn't be rude enough to omit that 'Dame', though personally I see greater honour in 'Professor Cramp', because it was during my time as an undergraduate that she was appointed Durham's only woman professor (I see someone is suggesting that she wasn't the first, that there was a modern linguist in the 1950s...) The talk was interesting, if a little frustrating because the dig itself was frustrating: they were looking for traces of an early monastery, and found enough to suggest that there was something happening on the site, but not enough to say what. The main result was a very large quantity of animal bones.

We didn't stay to look round the museum, because we had a lunch date with our clients the Murder Squad, who were appearing in force at a crime writing weekend at the Word. There wasn't time to do much more than say 'hello', but that was hello to some old friends and to newer members of the Squad who we hadn't previously met in person, worth the trip on both counts. Afterwards we had a brief nose around the outdoor market. Many of the stalls had already packed up, and what was left was mostly fabric, but there was one bookstall, and I managed to buy one book. It was the sort of bookstall which is dominated by DVDs, and most of the books were crime fiction (including several by Martin Edwards, with whom we had been talking over lunch). Unexpectedly, then, I bought a solid paperback of the memoirs of Alexander Herzen.

As if this weren't enough excitement for one day, we spent the evening with F and C, watching Eurovision. We have joined forces on this before, and know we are compatible in the degree of seriousness we are prepared to bring to the task: so it was a happy and relaxed evening, sitting on their sofa, drinking agreeable wines and eating sticky paëlla from bowls, the ultimate in Eurovision comfort food. There is much wrong with the governemt of Israel and many of its policies; I have much sympathy for anyone who decided they had to boycott Eurovision because of this, but none at all, I discovered, for the Icelandic contestants who turned up in person to make this point. We didn't discuss this, but enjoyed - for certain values of 'enjoyed' - the songs and the staging.

Overall impression: even more songs than usual were in English. This is a bad thing. The UK entry was forgettable (and a week on, I have forgotten it) but so was the winning entry, from the Netherlands. There's something mildly depressing about the bookies' favourite winning, too. Outstanding entries:

Denmark's song was catchy and melodic, and the staging had the authentic WTF element, a giant wooden chair: the Radio Times says "The preview video seems to resemble a number from Amélie: The Musical with quirky riffs, a giant chair and dancers in stripey T-shirts and scarves. All that’s missing are the berets." I can't argue with that. I didn't give it my usual bonus points for singing in own language, because small phrases in a variety of European languages don't count, and may be regarded as opportunism: but I thought it would do better than 12th place.

Prize for creepiest entry: Slovenia. And bonus marks for singing in Slovenian. They seem to have seen Portugal's success in 2017, and thought yes, that could work again... (they came 13th).

My favourite was Norway: Radio Times verdict: "Norway has a good track record at Eurovision..." a handy corrective for those of us who will never forget the year of Norvège, nul points...

Watch on YouTube

The points it loses for being sung in English, it recoups for including Sami joiking and references to the Northern lights. And I see that I wasn't alone in liking it: it didn't do well in the voting by juries of professionals, but made up for it in the popular vote, ending up placing fifth (and if I caught this subliminal glimpse of the UK popular vote, it came top here). There are times when it is perfectly acceptable to discount the opinion of the experts, and Eurovision is prominent among them.

We caught the bus home, and were in time to watch the last of the voting, that's how much we enjoyed ourselves!

Crossposts: https://shewhomust.livejournal.com/682994.html

Puffin numbers are in decline - but not on Skomer. A BBC report includes a video, which would be better with fewer pictures of ornithologists and more of puffins, and insists on moving on automatically to a report about pig-walking in the Brecon Beacons, but any puffin pictures are better than none.

Shopping triumph! My swimming costume disintegrated - I thought there was something odd last time I wore it, but it's so clingy when wet that it wasn't until I was folding it up to go swimming on Monday that I found the very large hole that was causing the problem. So on Tuesday I went into Newcastle early ahead of my reading group, and found not one but two swimming costumes in the first place I tried (Bon Marché - I miss their Durham store, which is being redeveloped as student accommodation, but that's another story). Neither is ideal, but both are my size, neither is absolutely hideous, and I have already tested one in the pool, without disaster. I also bought a copy of The Other Side of the World in a charity shop, so that's my next two books lined up. I call that a successful afternoon's shopping.

I hadn't taken my camera to Newcastle, so these are not my photographs of Grey's Monument, which has been transformed into the Workers' Maypole for the Great Exhibition of the North by artists Zoe Walker and Neil Bromwich:

Thanks to KaysGeog for the pictures!

Someone gave us a jar of Hari's Lime and Green Chilli pickle. Thank you, somebody, whoever you were! It was excellent, and we have scraped out the jar - but thanks to the internet, I know where to find more...

Below the Surface allows you to curate your own collection of finds from the excavation of Amsterdam's new metro line: hours of fun for all the family! If I (and the Guardian) understand this correctly, the line follows the route of two canals which had already been filled in, so many of the finds are things which had been dropped into the canals, but have been excavated from canals which are no longer there. The archaeology of ghost canals...

Crossposts: https://shewhomust.livejournal.com/644499.html

As I said, D. was visiting us last week. He spent a couple of days making visits further afield, but

durham_rambler and I also took a couple of days off, so that we could do fun things together. On Wednesday we returned to see the Cathedral's Open Treasure, now complete with actual treasures of Saint Cuthbert and much improved thereby. No pictures, because photography is not allowed - except in one alcove, where robes are provided in both children's and adult sizes, so that you can photograph each other dressed as monks. Perhaps, I suggested, I could dress up as a monk and then just happen to be standing next to this hogback tomb carved in the likeness of two bears? But the attendant was firm: only in that alcove there. While we were in town I took a couple of pictures of the new floral decorations, but my camera card has died, so I can't post those either...

However. Last Saturday was the last day of the visit, and D. suggested we go to Vindolanda, a Roman fort and settlement just south of the Wall. Since

durham_rambler and I had not been there for a very long time (longer than we realised, it turns out) that's what we did. It was there that my card gave out, but since it happened quite early in the day and

durham_rambler had a spare card I could borrow, damage was limited. Just to tempt you, this is probably my favourite of the pictures I took that day:

The hills in the background, a hint of the vicus in the foreground (I've no idea what the round stone with the hole in it is) and in between the masonry of the fort wall, with that distinctive playing-card corner.

( Want more? Under the cut! )

Crossposts: https://shewhomust.livejournal.com/598035.html

durham_rambler discovered from the local paper that timbers from the 'Willington Waggonway' were on show for one day only at the Stephenson Railway Museum, and we took time out yesterday to go and see them. This was part of the same 'Festival of Archaeology' as the presentation we went to last week, about the Lanchester Diploma, though I suspect both events would have happened sooner or later anyway.

We'd never heard of the Stephenson Railway Museum, either - it turns out to be a small but good collection, right next to the Silverlink shopping center. They'd set up a container outside the building, containing a young woman (who turns out to be Dominique Bell, Project Coordinator) and several lengths of untreated timber:

These are mainly the wooden rails of the 'Willington Waggonway', a late 18th century waggonway, built to carry horse-drawn coal carts - which makes it a rare survival of one of the world's first railways. THe timber at the left of the bottom shelf is irregularly shaped because it's just the branch of a tree, used as a sleeper to support the rails.

This rail has been recycled from the timbers of a ship (if I've got this right, the peg sticking out of it on the left is part of the railway, whereas the peg going across it further right is part of the construction of the ship).

Here's Dominique's blog post about her 'waggonway adventure' - going to York to collect the treated timbers for display. Obviously, they are trying to raise money to treat all the surviving timbers.

Some of the treated timbers were on display inside the museum, and I'm afraid I didn't find them anything like as exciting as the untreated ones outside; but I suppose if we want them to survive, it has to be done. There were plenty of other things to admire in the museum, too, shiny engines and suchlike, and we enjoyed our morning there.

In fact, we were sufficiently in holiday mood that we decided to lunch at the Citron Vert, a new 'French bistro' in High Pittington (formerly the Duke of Wellington) which we had seen reviewed in the Durham Times.

They weren't busy when we arrived, despite which they didn't have a table set, gave us the table hard by the counter and kept us waiting for the menu. That wasn't auspicious, but it picked up from then on. The table rubbing elbows with the staff meant we could chat to la patronne (the staff aren't French, but the enterprise certainly is!) as she opened the champagne and made kir royale for the party in the window, who were celebrating someone's birthday (they were displaying a balloon that said so). We both chose salade niçoise from the short menu (the black olives were the sort you buy ready stoned, which don't taste of much, but the eggs were cooked just right, and the anchovies were excellent, and plentiful), and a glass of Touraine sauvignon. I'd wondered how the Durham Times review had managed to square its ratings for quality and value with the prices they were quoting, but the answer may lie in the prices they weren't quoting: the wine, especially by the glass, was not cheap, and the sauvignon was pleasant but not special. However, when la patronne asked how we were doing, and we said what it a pity it was that they didn't offer rosé by the glass to accompany the salad, she said oh, but they did, it just hadn't made its way onto the menu, and poured me a complimentary half glass of Anciens Temps rosé, which was exactly what I would have chosen - pale, dry, with a faint caramel edge. I see from their online menu that their dinner menu includes a café gourmand, which I would probably have preferred to the chocolate brownie (nice enough, not as squidgy as I like it and the ice cream frozen too hard) I did have.

So if I had to give actual marks (which happily I don't) they would include quite a lot of on the one hand, on the other hand. But I think they are aiming for the right targets, even if they don't always hit them.

Also, our bill was handwritten on a picture postcard, and our card was one of the set issued by Penguin, showing the covers of their books: we got the Puffin edition of Heidi. I'm not that easily seduced, am I?

Crossposts: http://shewhomust.livejournal.com/589974.html

Towards the end of a cold February day in 2016, Mark - also known as 'Whitney' - Houston's metal detector gave "a perfect tone" (whatever that may be) indicating the presence of an interesting quantity of metal at an interesting depth. He dug it out carefully, although his first thought when he saw it was "what a stupid place to discard an old motorcycle battery!" - a little stack of plates of metal. But he took it home, and started - very carefully - to clean it up, setting the washed plates on the windowsill to dry. It happened that the light caught the wet surface in such a way that he could see writing on them, and what's more, he could see enough to recognise that the writing was Latin.

The pictures on the Portable Antiquities Scheme database give an idea of what it looked like at the time, and the bit that really impresses me is that armed with this, the internet and a network of other metal detectorists, he was able to identify what he had found, to the point that when he contacted the PAS, he was able to say "I think I've found a Roman diploma."

( The Lanchester diploma )

Crossposts: http://shewhomust.livejournal.com/588673.html

On Sunday we caught up with The Vikings Uncovered, which we only picked up on because a friend tweeted about it. In many ways it was an infuriating programme: in particular, it did one of the things I most hate about television documentaries, which is that it assumes the subject matter is not inherently interesting, and that unless it is tricked out with illustrative footage and fake suspense, the audience will wander off. It also managed to run for an hour and a half, which is longer than I find comfortable for a pregramme whose structure is "Look at this! And now look at this!" It was like watching a ninety minute trailer for a series coming later in which each of the short sections would would be unfolded into a really interesting programme about a site associated with the Vikings, and what we could learn about them from that site.

The most interesting of all of these, the bean in the cake, was the discovery of what really does seem to be a second Viking site in Newfoundland, at Point Rosee near the southwestern tip of the island. The BBC, bless their pointed little heads, issued their press release on April 1st, which combines with their rather excitable tone to unfortunate effect - but reading carefully what they do and don't say, there is still something there to get excited about.

Two somethings, in fact: the site itself, and the way it was discovered.

Excavations at Point Rosee have uncovered evidence of iron working. That's all, and it is in itself pretty minimal: a boulder in front of a shallow pit, surrounded by smaller stones and sheltered by an L-shaped turf wall, traces of charcoal and a quantity of slag. It's not a Viking settlement, because if there is an associated settlement it hasn't yet been found, and there's no evidence that it is even Viking - except that it's a technology known to have been used by the Vikings, and by no-one else in the region at the time. So it seems reasonable to call it a second Viking site, and evidence that the Vikings didn't just touch down at L'Anse aux Meadows and then turn round and go home. This would be even more exciting if the programme hadn't let slip something that I hadn't previously known, that butternuts (I hadn't even heard of butternuts: it's a kind of walnut, apparently) found at L'Anse aux Meadows must have been brought back by explorers further south and west. So it is not entirely news that the Vikings travelled further in Vinland than just the most northeasterly tip. Still, sort of knowing is one thing; seeing traces on the ground is another.

Seeing those traces on the ground from 400 miles away in space is yet another. The excavation site was identified by space archaeologist Dr. Sarah Parcak - which has to be the best job title of the year. She doesn't, alas, go into space. Instead, what she is doing is the familiar exercise of identifying promising locations from the air, just from rather further up than traditional aerial photography. She uses satellite images (if we were told whose images, I missed that bit) and enhances them to pick out promising features. These are not always what she is looking for: the sheltering turf wall at Point Rosee had looked like a typical Viking longhouse (and similar traces on Auskerry turned out to be turf cuttings). Pretty amazing, all the same, to identify from hundreds of miles above something which, close up, even when the grass has been removed, looks like different shades of mud.

All in all, despite patronising me outrageously (it seems that everything I thought I knew about the Vikings was wrong, they didn't have horns on their helmets at all - and here's some footage of Up Helly Aa) the programme did tell me new and interesting things, and sent me off to the internet in seach of more. Links follow, for my own convenience:

Portmahomack (Pictish site)

The National Geographic version

Another National Geographic article: evidence of Vikings on Baffin Island

The view from Newfoundland

Inevitable follow-up: local man says "My grandfather found Viking remains..."

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News from Nowhere

Entries tagged with archaeology

Five signs of spring

History is not what you thought...

The Hill of Goats

And tonight's mystery object is ...

Henges!

News from the Northern Isles

What they found at Two Ball Lonnen

Dive into Durham

Knight / snail / goat (probably)

Talking about comics (mostly)

Five things make a Bank Holiday weekend

Finding consolations where we can -

The missing piece

What do four things make?

Eight days ago

Five happy summer things

A visit to Vindolanda

Industrial archaeology, artisanal lunch

An Honorable Discharge

West with the Vikings