Awake at 6 and walking into Alfriston at 7. Was joined this morning by Bev who did not get a lot of sleep last night and reported that the sunrise was lovely. It was nice to share my early morning ritual with some one else though I think she’d have preferred more sleep. It was drizzling with rain as well.
Upon our return I joined Tom and John in a boiled egg (one each, that is) and morning chat about the upper classes trying to annex Equatorial Guinea, for some reason which I appear to have forgotten.
We left camp at about 8:25. Terry the Trainee spent the night at the camp rather than the Hostel and said it was the best nights sleep he’d had so far which does not say a lot for the Hostel! Ah, youth! Give ’em a blow up mattress and beer and they’re more than happy. Actually that’s probably true for us oldies as well. When we picked Emma up she said she wondered what had happened to him but figured he’d scored. He claims all he scored was an empty tent.
Today it’s Tom and me on the tea roster so first up the kettles went on (though John did it before we arrived) then it was on site to start sifting. Roy and Brian were battling for possession of the loom weight hole but, as the supervisors didn’t turn up until around 10, it fell to the experience of Roy and poor Brian slumped over to us at the ‘big pit’.
When Kevin arrived he told Roy to stop digging but didn’t give the hole back to Brian. We all cheered him up by saying that he may not have kept the hole but he DID find the loom weight and this would NEVER change.
The pit is starting to develop in Dick
I have to assume that my sectioning was not up to par as Dawn is now doing ALL the features and I’m sieving and hauling more barrows. There are lots of finds coming out of the big pit but nothing to indicate what it actually is. It went through a lot of changes of opinion the deeper it got.
Why is it that young female archaeological students are all such sulky girls? It’s like they’re trying to be sophisticated and knowledgeable and I find it totally annoying and not a little contrived. Actually the males are pretty bad too. Very critical about everything and negative to a point of irritation. I find myself having to walk away from them all. And it doesn’t change when they become supervisors, they just get louder and unreasonably confident. I mean, come on, they dig holes for a living and live like animals…I’d mention the mess tent at the camp but think I may just vomit.
I spent most of the afternoon pot washing as Owen only wanted 6 people in his pit, making me immediately redundant. It was a nice relaxing end to the day. Sitting with Brian and chatting over sherds and bones. He said he and Nigel were going to the Cricketers for dinner and would I care to join them. And I realised I would, having not really seen a lot of them. Dawn said she’d like to come as well. The others are making dinner at the camp.
So more sausages, eggs and Harvey’s. We chatted about history and the interconnectedness of things, Nigel’s new grandchild and a little bit about football. it was a nice night with the pub full at one stage. It’s a lovely pub which I recommend to anyone in the vicinity.
Upon our return to camp, the round table discussion was once more about weasel milking and voles to which, naturally, I added much nonsense. Matt had foolishly partaken of a Broadside and kept drifting off to sleep. Of course, we all took the piss out of him but as he was asleep, he didn’t notice. It has to be noted that Bev did not. I find her restraint and loyalty, admirable. We all thought it particularly funny when…but that would be telling.
When the ‘kids’ returned to the camp we had a visit from someone called Emmy who’s clothes were all wet, or so she maintained. To be honest she was extremely drunk and didn’t make much sense at all. I guess she’d have to be to come and talk to us. I’d talked earlier about the divide between students and volunteers with John, saying what a shame it was. He agreed. Maybe they don’t think they can learn anything from people who volunteer.
At about midnight we broke up, except for Lorna who, like a good little weasel-ette bravely went into the mess tent, vanishing into it’s dark and menacing maw.
The weather turned chilly.
