tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51204014717389166202024-03-18T21:25:37.790-07:00Archaeospeak"There's nothing more useless than a bored archaeologist" (Douglas Adams 1978)Miles Russellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07581296676233050831noreply@blogger.comBlogger136125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5120401471738916620.post-35696333212212488652018-03-26T11:14:00.001-07:002018-03-26T11:14:22.256-07:00Academic Archaeology: what not to wear<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Do you only ever wear black?"<br />
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Now there's a question I hadn't been asked since I was about 17. Don't know. Hadn't really thought about it. The months of summer bring a world of archaeological fieldwork and the assorted muted greys, greens and khaki colours of combat-dig-wear, but full on winter-lecture mode....?<br />
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"Er"<br />
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Strange question for a student to ask.<br />
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When I first started in academia, some 25 years ago now, the university-powers-that-be did attempt (briefly) to enforce a dress code on their staff - something about lecturers having to regularly look smarter (at least in clothing choice) than their students (so that the two tribes could, perhaps, be more easily distinguished). Some hope. I did once toy (very briefly) with the concept of jackets / shirts / ties / waistcoats. Silly idea. Not me at all.<br />
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In the world of pop culture archaeological academia, of course, as I've noted before, we've got the great Dr Jones as a role model, slipping effortlessly from the monotonous world of chalk and talk, where tweed and sensible ties rule supreme<br />
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to the battered leather jacket and fedora prefered when looting (sorry, conducting serious archaeological fieldwork)<br />
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There are no hard and fast dress codes when it comes to real world archaeo-academia though (as a glimpse at any university archaeology undergraduate programme will no doubt amply demonstrate). There was a time when (I think) I did wear colours (albeit mostly baby sick and food stains) but dark clothing does help one to blend into the gloom of a poorly lit lecture theatre just as khaki, I guess, helps the avid archaeo-practitioner blend into the dusty fields surrounding the average dig (perhaps archaeologists simply don't want to be seen?).<br />
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Many years ago, when I first dipped my toe in the world of televisual archaeology, a producer in the know told me that, if I wanted to work full time in TV (which, at the time, I wasn't really convinced that I did) I needed to be noticed. "Get a distinctive personality trait" he advised, "something that gets you remembered. Better still" he went on "dye your hair, get a tattoo or some form of prominent facial piercing. Even better than that" he grinned "wear brightly coloured or hideously mismatched clothing. In short, you need to stand out from the crowd".<br />
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Having not gone to art school (and having already completed my undergraduate experiments in clothing - all best forgotten) I remained stubbornly unmemorable and dressed as myself, contrary to the advice given.<br />
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Over the last couple of months, as I gorge on my daily lunchtime diet of Bargain Hunt (don't worry, I do still have a job), I can't help but notice that this advice is, apparently, still being given (and actually being heeded by those in the auction-related world). All it takes for experts to be remembered (and re-employed) is to create a TV persona based on distinctively memorable clothing. Hence there's the distinctive, brightly coloured scarf:<br />
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the distinctive, brightly coloured hat:<br />
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the distinctive scarf and hat:<br />
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the distinctive trousers:<br />
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the distinctive blazer:</div>
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and, most memorable of all, the distinctive hat, scarf, bow tie, coat and facial hair combo:<br />
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In comparison with this, how can the average real world archaeologist compete?<br />
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Dark (unmemorable) colours for clothing then it must remain for me...at least until I fade and become part of the archaeology myself.<br />
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Miles Russellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07581296676233050831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5120401471738916620.post-61448946516857825972018-02-28T01:44:00.000-08:002018-02-28T01:44:55.431-08:00Folking Beaker People<div style="text-align: justify;">
I was very pleased to see the news headlines last week that a new study of prehistoric DNA appears to suggest that "at least 90% of the ancestry of Britons was replaced by a wave of migrants who arrived about 4,500 years ago" [the Guardian]. </div>
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In the
earlier 20<sup>th</sup> century, it used to be thought that 'Beaker pottery' represented
a particular type of artefact belonging to an aggressive, colonising people who swept across Europe from the east bringing knowledge of
metalworking with them: hence reference in the contemporary archaeological literature of the
‘Beaker Folk’.<o:p></o:p>When I was at university (a few centuries ago now) we were told that such ideas concerning prehistoric migration and invasion were simply wrong - there was no such thing as 'the Beaker People' (and even the term 'Beaker-using-people' should be avoided if at all possible). </div>
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Using a traditional approach to archaeological artefacts, of course, it
is easy to argue that Beaker assemblages are the physical manifestation of a
specific ethnic group, and most early attempts at explaining cultural change
interpreted the arrival such material in terms of an invasion or folk
migration. The invasion hypothesis was very popular in the years leading up to
the Second World War and archaeological maps drawn throughout the
1930s, purporting to show the distribution of Beakers and the spread of
metalworking across Europe, look instead as if they are plotting carefully
planned military advances. Directional arrows became the march of armoured
regiments. Artefacts were weapons. Site names became battlefields.</div>
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This
view of aggressive acculturation underwent a gradual process of revision
throughout the 1960s and ‘70s. The ‘New Archaeologies’ that evolved during that
period stepped away from the invasion hypothesis, which appeared to provide a
rather simplistic take on the evidence, and progressively replaced it with ever
more subtle concepts. The arrival of Beakers and metalwork, it was argued, was
due to a more passive form of cultural change. To put it simply, it was
suggested that people altered their lifestyles through choice, and not because
they were forced to. Change, it was argued, occurred through peaceful social
interaction, such as trade. There was no need to explain the Beaker phenomenon
in terms of war, migration or conquest.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Never being entirely convinced by
all this, I did argue (in the books <i>Monuments of the British Neolithic</i>, <i>The
Early Neolithic Architecture of the South Downs</i> and <i>Prehistoric Sussex</i>) that
the so-called Beaker package "could easily (and quite plausibly) represent
the archaeological trace of an invasion or migration – the durable remains of a
small, militarily strong social group that replaced the social elite in a given
area, taking ultimate control of local resources". This point (in particular)
received a barrage of criticism in the reviews that followed, one writer (who
still works in archaeology) describing the argument as "complete
nonsense" - little more than "meaningless posturing" whilst
another noted that they were "writhing in annoyance at the crass images
drawn" and hoped that both myself and my books would "soon be
forgotten". <o:p></o:p></div>
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At the time, such 'reviews' left
me depressed and angry, not least of all because it was clear that those
writing the comments appeared to have wilfully misunderstood large sections of the books condemning the conclusions as they went against their own (wholly
subjective) point of view. Today, with the considerable benefit of hindsight,
I've learnt to recognise that if I'm annoying people quite this much then I
must, after all, be doing something right.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The news that the Beaker
phenomenon could indeed have been the result of prehistoric mass migration and
invasion, the degree of population replacement involved being far higher than
anyone could have imagined, has pleased me inordinately.</div>
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Even taking the hyperbole that always
surrounds archaeological discoveries (especially when reported in the popular
press), I do sincerely hope that the academics who have long argued against the
idea of population movement being the catalyst for cultural change are now
chewing on their crayons in frustration.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Now, if you'll excuse me I'm off
for a spot of meaningless posturing...<o:p></o:p></div>
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Miles Russellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07581296676233050831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5120401471738916620.post-54796414889490629602017-12-22T01:53:00.002-08:002017-12-22T02:14:30.298-08:00Michael Wood and John Romer: a slight case of hero worship<div style="text-align: justify;">
They say you should never meet your heroes (actually, that has indeed proved true in at least five cases in my own experience - which I won't go into detail here - at least not till I've finished the Christmas sherry), but I'm pleased to report that, at the BBC History weekends this winter in Winchester and York, I met two of my own personal archaeo-historic heroes, Michael Wood and John Romer, and was very glad that I did.</div>
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Michael has written and presented many TV programmes, but it was his <i>In Search of</i> series, covering the Dark Ages. which first aired on the BBC between 1979 and 81, that first really got me interested in archaeology as a subject of mass appeal, coming, as it did, as a beacon of televisual light during the dark days of school (and the dismal round of results that proved to be my O Levels). </div>
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John wrote and presented <i>Romer's Egypt</i>, which ran on the beeb at the same time and, although I've never followed Egyptology closely, I found his series similarly captivating and enthralling.</div>
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Perhaps it was the formative time of my life that I first watched these programmes, and repeatedly rewatched them (as my family owned an early VHS recording system which allowed me to tape these TV gems on a large, brick-shaped video cassette) but I feel that they represent the pinnacle of archaeological programming on the BBC. Yes, there are certainly more TV programmes covering archaeology and history today than in the early 1980s, but, watching them all (which I do) it feels that today's output can sometimes (although by no means always) be lightweight, breezy and intellectually unrewarding. </div>
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True, presenters have become more professional and special effects far more flashy and dramatic, but today's content often feels either absent or completely watered down and I frequently get the feeling that I'm being talked down to. In rewatching both Romer and Wood (I now own remastered copies of their series on DVD, the VHS cassettes being almost completely unplayable, although they're probably invaluable museum pieces) you never get such a worrying sense. Here, in these early series, you are in the hands of capable and enthusiastic communicators who really know their respective subject areas. They never 'dumb-down' in order to pass on their hard-won knowledge. They never play tricks to the camera. They never patronise.</div>
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Meeting both was a joy, reminding me of why I wanted to get into archaeology in the first place, namely research, discovery and communication. It's been a difficult year, career-wise, and I've had moments where I've wondered whether it's all really been worthwhile, but meeting these two and sitting in their lectures afterwards, I was transported back to simpler times when the idea of studying the past seemed to be a glorious and exciting thing to do. </div>
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Faith restored.</div>
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Miles Russellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07581296676233050831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5120401471738916620.post-61752965755198098612017-12-14T14:40:00.001-08:002017-12-15T13:47:25.411-08:00Archaeology, Star Wars and the Power of Memory<div style="text-align: justify;">
So, I've just seen <i>Star Wars: the Last Jedi</i> [no spoilers - don't worry] and whilst I understand that it's not to everyone's taste (personally I can't see the attraction of <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>, but that's another story and, indeed, another franchise), may I just say 'WOOHOO' punch the air with joy and get all that out of the way.</div>
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Where was I again?</div>
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Oh yes, it got me thinking about the way memory works...</div>
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As an archaeologist, memories are my staple, my raison d'etre, my reason to be; spending my life finding, sorting and sifting through the accumulated mental detritus of past millennia. In fact, to quote another element of pop culture of which I'm inordinately fond, MacKenzie Crook's wonderful series <i>Detectorists</i>:</div>
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"we unearth the scattered memories. Mine for stories" - indeed yes</div>
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Memories are tricky things though. Hugely subjective, always different (depending on who is doing the remembering) and constantly shifting with time. I guess that's why, to return to the <i>Star Wars</i> analogy (thank you) the recent three films (<i>Force Awakens, Rogue One, Last Jedi</i>) have proved so popular at the box office and with fans (myself included) - yes they play with memories, but they do so in an affectionate and really rather clever way - taking bits of music and dialogue here, set and space ship designs there, to create something familar, comforting and yet ever-so-slightly new and exciting. </div>
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Repeating the past, only making it more so (if that makes sense). </div>
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That's why (in my own humble opinion) the first 3 prequels (<i>Phantom Menace, Attack of the Clones, Revenge of the Sith</i> - and, if you want to be totally completist and pedantic <i>the Clone Wars </i>too) went badly awry, being so out of kilter, po-faced and (dare I say it) rather dull, they took the memories of the first 3 films and cheerfully defecated all over them </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid6jzIwqLO9VyuNc4vu9l9wpG1GB4Q6ZdGxnwUemDoMWsQZEDqRnHUFWHTM8queLWyuCtM6UYp-Xs8-BTb3Rl2KoRNlG-_zB4vly37jqUdcznQ01l1ZqRZKdtYPwKqENffTyk7dmBfRduK/s1600/starwars10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="1024" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid6jzIwqLO9VyuNc4vu9l9wpG1GB4Q6ZdGxnwUemDoMWsQZEDqRnHUFWHTM8queLWyuCtM6UYp-Xs8-BTb3Rl2KoRNlG-_zB4vly37jqUdcznQ01l1ZqRZKdtYPwKqENffTyk7dmBfRduK/s320/starwars10.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Of course, the advance of special effects meant that, never one to leave well alone, director and creator George Lucas subsequently went on to tinker, add, delete, move around and generally mess with the 1977-83 originals, so that the versions we see on TV today bear only a passing resemblance to the big screen originals from back in the day</div>
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I was discussing this very point with some of my colleagues at work (sometimes we talk about archaeology too). They were convinced (and really quite adamant) that the 1977 film <i>Star Wars</i> had always been <i>Star Wars: A New Hope</i> and had similarly always been credited as 'Episode IV'<br />
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I wasn't so sure. I do vividly recall seeing the film on its second run in 1978 (3 times in 3 birthday party treats for 3 friends over 3 days). I remember the screen crawl, I remember the first shot of deep space, I remember the awe-inspiringly big space ships that filled the screen so dramatically and the first epic battle that launched a franchise...</div>
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...I do not remember 'Episode IV' appearing anywhere (in fact if it had I think we would all have been asking ourselves what the hell happened to episodes I to III and demanding our money back - not that it was our money paying for the cinema tickets back then). </div>
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It took a quick google check (what did we do before the internet - other than read books - obvs) to discover that the title <i>Episode IV : a New Hope</i> wasn't actually added until 1981, when the idea of retro-fitting prequels was first mooted. </div>
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The film I saw in 1978 was called <i>Star Wars</i>...</div>
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...end of.</div>
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Hence, in respect, and recalling that old pop-culture statement of sci-fi rejection 'I've Never Seen Star Wars' - it follows that anyone who saw the first of George Lucas' movies (set in a Galaxy far far away) in 1981 or after hasn't actually seen <i>Star Wars</i> at all.</div>
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No, what they've seen is a film called<i> A New Hope</i></div>
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George Lucas is a man who is clearly unhappy with memory recall and has, since the early 1980s. been doing his level best to keep messing with our minds. Sad though it is to say, if stories are to be believed, the original cuts for films 1-3 (or episodes IV-VI in the brave New Order - or is that First Order? - of things) have been deleted, so as to enforce the legitimacy of the shiny new editions. Of course, that hasn't stopped fans from trying to recreate the original versions from what they remember and from what little has survived, but that's not the same as having the originals themselves (and it's also playing fast and loose with our poor scattered memories).</div>
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As a consequence of all this, I find myself in even more difficulty when I'm working on site for, when I recover an artefact that hasn't seen the light of day for hundreds, if not thousands, of years - something that meant something to someone long long ago - whilst I am indeed overjoyed to be recovering a scattered memory, I am also perplexed as to whose memory it was, what it ultimately means, what version of the memory it is and, most important of all, whether or not it's real or has been subtly re-rendered in CGI </div>
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<br />Miles Russellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07581296676233050831noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5120401471738916620.post-54700368330742592682017-05-14T04:16:00.000-07:002017-05-14T08:47:32.907-07:00A Song for the Durotriges<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It begins - the annual competition in which (most of) Europe
gathers together in order to showcase the finest songs in the hope that one will be
chosen to be the Durotriges 'Big Dig’ anthem. The misguided,
misinformed and foolish think that this is 'the Eurovision Song Contest', but we in
the know are aware of the truth. The winner in the televised version of Eurovision may get
to take home a glass trophy in the shape of a rectal camera</div>
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but the winner of
the Durotrigian popular vote has the satisfaction of knowing that their song
will be played loudly (and constantly) in the site minibus and tannoy system every
morning from now until August in order to motivate, inspire and (just possibly)
infuriate. The dig season is starting – now let’s find an anthem. <br />
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This year the choice has been more difficult than usual, not
because of the poverty of songs (thank you 2016) but because there have been so
many gloriously insane entries, any one of one of which could easily have taken
the prize. This, coupled with the fact that the entire stage was designed
to make every contestant look as if they were performing beneath a giant set of
squatting buttocks</div>
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and the final decision was difficult; very difficult indeed.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Would it be the hair-whipping Montenegrin whose 'Spaceship was ready to blow' despite the fact that his 'Linen is covered with feathers'?</div>
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The funky Moldovans?</div>
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The Brexit-apologising UK entry?</div>
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The schizophrenic Croatian opera singer turned soprano-biker in love with himself?</div>
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The 'can't quite stand up' (and utterly unpronounceable) O'G3NE from the Netherlands?</div>
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The super sinister scary JOWST from Norway (who could not only hear voices in his head but whose chorus seemed to be the less than jolly mantra 'Kill Kill Kill')?</div>
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The five men from Sweden in desperate need of a functioning public toilet?</div>
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Or the clearly Durotrigian crowd-pleasing Dihaj from Azerbaijan who sang about skeletons whilst performing with a horse head human hybrid man on an archaeological photographic step ladder?</div>
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Tough choice.</div>
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In the end, of course, although both the official Eurovision jury and public vote went for socially awkward Salvador Sobral from Portugal</div>
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there could only be one winner of the Durotriges Big Dig 2017 Anthem prize. </div>
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Hello Europe, this is Bournemouth calling. The votes of the Dorset jury are in and all bribes have now been cashed. 12 points go to the Romanian entry 'Yodel it' by Ilinca and Alex, a beautifully crafted ballad detailing the benefits of the UK-based parcel delivery service complete with guttural throat exercises, glitter-cannons and eastern European rap</div>
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Brilliant - quite quite brilliant. From this moment, the peace of the Dorset countryside will be broken each and every morning with a prime slab of yodel-based-rapping. What better way to inspire the dig team?</div>
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Thank you Kiev, thank you Europe and goodnight...</div>
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Miles Russellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07581296676233050831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5120401471738916620.post-61241297824911263552017-04-28T09:41:00.002-07:002017-04-28T09:42:27.169-07:00Signs of Life 3<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It's that time of year again when lectures, meetings, fieldtrips, seminars, more meetings, exam briefings and assignment marking join together with even more meetings to create a perfect storm of timetable-related-brain-congestion from which it is difficult to escape. Occasionally the well-researched student assignment or well-argued question in the middle of a lecture provides a 'Eureka' moment that makes all the hours lost in mindless-meeting-related drudgery worthwhile. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sometimes it is a confused headline news story glimpsed for a moment in a TV bulletin makes you stop in your tracks and wake up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This time it's the BBC News page that does the trick:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Not being a follower of football (have I said that before?) it took a long time for me to realise this wasn't a piece of fake news or late April Foolery - especially as people have been saying for many years that Jesus Saves...</span></span><br />
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Miles Russellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07581296676233050831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5120401471738916620.post-13340315289150799702017-04-23T01:43:00.003-07:002017-04-23T02:43:25.745-07:00The Archaeology of Doctor Who 4<div style="text-align: justify;">
Ok (bit weird) but less than 2 weeks on from wondering whether BBC <i style="text-align: justify;">Dr Who</i><span style="text-align: justify;"> show runner Steven Moffat had taken a peek at my own private Who-related wish list, putting so many archaeologists (and not the usual, run-of-the-mill evil / dysfunctional / curse-invoking type that pop culture relentlessly throws at us) </span>into his flagship programme, together with multiple depictions of Roman soldiers AND Stonehenge, this week, in an episode entitled <i>Smile </i>(which as several people have pointed out to me is an anagram of Miles - just in case my completely delusional egocentric worldview wasn't warped enough already, thank you) featured the geeky spot to end all geeky spots...</div>
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...for, a mere 18 minutes in, as Bill, the Doctor's new companion, searched through the archive of a post earth-evacuation colonist ark, she accessed images and information relating to humanity's great artistic achievements and there, sitting squarely among Stonehenge and Easter Island was an image of the Venus mosaic from Bignor Roman villa in West Sussex. </div>
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<span style="text-align: justify;">I recognised it straight away, why wouldn't I, it is after all a mosaic I'm very familiar with</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit3dGtMxvXNBIk-_SMD0db3XtCWS7Rns1eo9_B1E2j6-MYRAxIY0yiKy7qelZMolkhe1AQw2PP1U_EMIMPJP3ioFBCtvTG0S_DT527tzL3XKNE6rByg8KxR6e8ywbgarNjG8qC48-gFWSS/s1600/smile3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit3dGtMxvXNBIk-_SMD0db3XtCWS7Rns1eo9_B1E2j6-MYRAxIY0yiKy7qelZMolkhe1AQw2PP1U_EMIMPJP3ioFBCtvTG0S_DT527tzL3XKNE6rByg8KxR6e8ywbgarNjG8qC48-gFWSS/s320/smile3.jpg" width="221" /></a></div>
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having, quite literally, together with my friend David Rudling, written the book on it (which is currently available from all good (and probably some less good) bookshops)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkL5ixJg4iS8S9M_3maiyY8hLwK11mih6WgnhoskJ8PaSfQR6xjD9jm5hOnjmYkPEMTXBw11BfyeXGf1OZAb-uZrMEDRjYQ37v0IP0xo_dFxk362MLA3BrXjdJUfXojiAiCOd1M8v2fOWG/s1600/smile4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkL5ixJg4iS8S9M_3maiyY8hLwK11mih6WgnhoskJ8PaSfQR6xjD9jm5hOnjmYkPEMTXBw11BfyeXGf1OZAb-uZrMEDRjYQ37v0IP0xo_dFxk362MLA3BrXjdJUfXojiAiCOd1M8v2fOWG/s320/smile4.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: justify;">Wow (and I repeat) wow. Of all the mosaics in all the world (etc etc). This, coupled with an image of the Medusa / Gorgon head from Bath</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3AkGe-Hjx8NNGbHIglECmypIq9N4AKrt5toYJLzO04qs7QdZwUpyOtB8dL-TdNRXPBGbXFKhLkgwmIPd44uegXtD7wzETjpretF8d4OBwmN5T5t4hcbGEv4ppxC_vnVO8MhLTGvElKDW3/s1600/smile2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3AkGe-Hjx8NNGbHIglECmypIq9N4AKrt5toYJLzO04qs7QdZwUpyOtB8dL-TdNRXPBGbXFKhLkgwmIPd44uegXtD7wzETjpretF8d4OBwmN5T5t4hcbGEv4ppxC_vnVO8MhLTGvElKDW3/s320/smile2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: justify;">and I had to have a bit of a lie down</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisuvOJtZGGtSBQeAGe0biBD4f0PZMw2scSXfb8csvz9SfMpqzg1_iK1un1hCaYEesBzLrc5cKpoO3K6iKaSW0QTnonlPs2myJyFrtzjsHDISGes5DeOeDaqaONfk_CmD__jOKEHdT8E5aX/s1600/doctor-who-smile-promo-pics-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisuvOJtZGGtSBQeAGe0biBD4f0PZMw2scSXfb8csvz9SfMpqzg1_iK1un1hCaYEesBzLrc5cKpoO3K6iKaSW0QTnonlPs2myJyFrtzjsHDISGes5DeOeDaqaONfk_CmD__jOKEHdT8E5aX/s320/doctor-who-smile-promo-pics-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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What with the Ninth Hispana Legion coming up in a few weeks time (seriously), all I need to make my delusional mindset come into less focus would be an episode set completely in the galleries of a Neolithic flint mine...now that would be a bit weird (not to say very unlikely) wouldn't it.</div>
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Anyway, all things considered, I am very pleased to see that, not only is the past valued in the future, but it's a very archaeo-centred Bournemouth University Research Project version of the past (if we count Bignor, Bath, Easter Island, Stonehenge and the forensic analysis of human remains)..</div>
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...cue happy emoji-robot-interface face</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu4V-NDD3CeoCYSMtNnvCLTmIiBj-xTI4UApW_w3Ki6joIqAtWg5y9mteWkyQG9zy2egbhyphenhyphengwZQVIicqNPPu7zexd8N2Bc7L2R2eXNOALcV3VyPIliKYPcjj-hp9_NAhGUBzpd87Id5TWa/s1600/Series-10-Trailer-2017-42emoji.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu4V-NDD3CeoCYSMtNnvCLTmIiBj-xTI4UApW_w3Ki6joIqAtWg5y9mteWkyQG9zy2egbhyphenhyphengwZQVIicqNPPu7zexd8N2Bc7L2R2eXNOALcV3VyPIliKYPcjj-hp9_NAhGUBzpd87Id5TWa/s320/Series-10-Trailer-2017-42emoji.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />Miles Russellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07581296676233050831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5120401471738916620.post-81830317092610439722017-04-13T08:59:00.001-07:002017-04-23T01:59:59.746-07:00The Archaeology of Doctor Who 3<div style="text-align: justify;">
I'm a big fan of <i>Dr Who</i> (did I mention that before?) and, as the new series is about to air on the BBC (the last to feature Peter Capaldi as Doctor 12/13/1st of the second phase/indeterminate - delete as applicable) I am beginning to wonder whether show runner Steven Moffat has taken a peek at my own private Who-related wish list.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvr9p5LfrdD4WkZGAGI23Ly_6_ZCuQOkUJP81HkICkVeec7cEorY5_ry3E01C-SrLGk9aNl8ZATfFKhbPomkA5Pvd208EXbzZFPsazlz-6mz_SOYo7ibVbkEzMoVd-h23rqfdYkRNez1D9/s1600/drwho3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvr9p5LfrdD4WkZGAGI23Ly_6_ZCuQOkUJP81HkICkVeec7cEorY5_ry3E01C-SrLGk9aNl8ZATfFKhbPomkA5Pvd208EXbzZFPsazlz-6mz_SOYo7ibVbkEzMoVd-h23rqfdYkRNez1D9/s320/drwho3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I have, of course, had this feeling before.<br />
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The series 5 finale (in 2005, rather than the season 5 finale in 1968) <i>The Pandorica Opens / The Big Bang</i>, for example, was set almost entirely within one of my favourite examples of prehistoric architecture: Stonehenge </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ9v5fBXRdTM_P5A-oifNPakMt1jWCKUPP5g5o1v2b6PNOkckemaSEWTrCRu8d1k_jwcay4z9h60v6CTXDzkEgbaU2uSQmlPFqAkukix9Jxwc2kUXWpPIr-Im0ABe-rO2B9KUcX8-REhft/s1600/arch800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ9v5fBXRdTM_P5A-oifNPakMt1jWCKUPP5g5o1v2b6PNOkckemaSEWTrCRu8d1k_jwcay4z9h60v6CTXDzkEgbaU2uSQmlPFqAkukix9Jxwc2kUXWpPIr-Im0ABe-rO2B9KUcX8-REhft/s320/arch800.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Not only that, of course, but it also featured [spoiler alert] Cybermen, Daleks and the trowel-bothering, gun-toting, banana-wielding exo-archaeologist Professor River Song</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieg3FaV9Ys4gRjMUDbkALLIjADgWkyLTzafzX2EduFtN-t-no-SUPPFYLX51YppDeZnrPDltgSUkeYdpOt_VYwWCuyf6nyzRxNPqW0LVBlfEnhSA4LiE-KOw_nXexdADJ8Klj_iSbJsJgV/s1600/arch801.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieg3FaV9Ys4gRjMUDbkALLIjADgWkyLTzafzX2EduFtN-t-no-SUPPFYLX51YppDeZnrPDltgSUkeYdpOt_VYwWCuyf6nyzRxNPqW0LVBlfEnhSA4LiE-KOw_nXexdADJ8Klj_iSbJsJgV/s320/arch801.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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It also had, quite inexplicably, Roman legionaries</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_EhIhqGQd0qVVeLxhhWr4z8_4FfbS6BfQc2avwGoBOow2Ggrzj7dq-z-wOatUdC7GboxIP62sGy7xtr9NdqBaBycgrlh8LQv5-nOhQQvlsr3zruv8KEnlhaz6ejUMoeaFX3zk3pg1ZsVe/s1600/arch802.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_EhIhqGQd0qVVeLxhhWr4z8_4FfbS6BfQc2avwGoBOow2Ggrzj7dq-z-wOatUdC7GboxIP62sGy7xtr9NdqBaBycgrlh8LQv5-nOhQQvlsr3zruv8KEnlhaz6ejUMoeaFX3zk3pg1ZsVe/s320/arch802.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Lots and lots of Roman legionaries</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxOup8VdX-qXtU5S9RtgrUOi_xlKHQDP9BqeKXkQ40QGXud86XCGa55eqvKcyQRM95p79RvG4Bli8_DlxWHUPRC9PkoJL1NRQjYq0gQB7juBZ4vzFxYkzzlMswtSBTZGd1JtzK4egr5A3v/s1600/arch803.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxOup8VdX-qXtU5S9RtgrUOi_xlKHQDP9BqeKXkQ40QGXud86XCGa55eqvKcyQRM95p79RvG4Bli8_DlxWHUPRC9PkoJL1NRQjYq0gQB7juBZ4vzFxYkzzlMswtSBTZGd1JtzK4egr5A3v/s320/arch803.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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and, OK so the legionaries all turned out to be [Spoiler Alert] Nestene Duplicates (rather than Autons - no, me neither), but the combination of Romans and Stonehenge made this particular lecturer in Prehistoric and Roman archaeology a very (very) happy man. So happy, in fact, that I think I'll say that again: Roman soldiers AND Stonehenge.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy5Z3WcJ8GB4oWPusfm1bNbX92SsnOfTg_zSp-oVXaNSDgketbcsTbaP2X-hyVqlLwvPSmLLO2nF4EOKNJGy2q697ayn441mKP-78vIM81cfJF_R3w5-8N1d-hQTjG2pH_3vVenKOeT140/s1600/arch804.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy5Z3WcJ8GB4oWPusfm1bNbX92SsnOfTg_zSp-oVXaNSDgketbcsTbaP2X-hyVqlLwvPSmLLO2nF4EOKNJGy2q697ayn441mKP-78vIM81cfJF_R3w5-8N1d-hQTjG2pH_3vVenKOeT140/s320/arch804.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Wow</div>
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Even better, just like myself, the good Doctor and his chums immediately went mucking around in the ground around the sarsens. OK, so my particular 'mucking around' was part of a properly managed archaeological research programme (rather than a search for an extraterrestrial thingymabob), but I did feel a strange kind of kinship</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQVTDrZ-QBycokwgjpxfVT2v-X-ZUkPITqcQ67Okmh5cTD79oVrdmpev0nR4w_dFsIx6GZbMfIVHxvrwKP0gWGNpowODQ_t6f0S5t_DCq-rf3_z0F2GS-khqo1bJigzTF_E76eKS_ugyEq/s1600/stonehenge-2008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQVTDrZ-QBycokwgjpxfVT2v-X-ZUkPITqcQ67Okmh5cTD79oVrdmpev0nR4w_dFsIx6GZbMfIVHxvrwKP0gWGNpowODQ_t6f0S5t_DCq-rf3_z0F2GS-khqo1bJigzTF_E76eKS_ugyEq/s320/stonehenge-2008.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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- it being about as close as I'll ever get to sharing the same experiences as the good Doctor. What particularly made me sit up and take notice (even more than I was already) was when Team-Who found a secret way down into the ground within Stonehenge. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh07_grWbdF3oOmj-pny_6UETTXMjgHc2PB8TsOX3JoB2J6wUxpqP7QISyxpEMj05-RZp0VNXxvUK8fkf6sOKyTmtOtrStC5s0EDjEWEop3cjdoEIYKylPPAUzNp8UUthyphenhyphenj3Ao0E283ZYWr/s1600/arch805.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh07_grWbdF3oOmj-pny_6UETTXMjgHc2PB8TsOX3JoB2J6wUxpqP7QISyxpEMj05-RZp0VNXxvUK8fkf6sOKyTmtOtrStC5s0EDjEWEop3cjdoEIYKylPPAUzNp8UUthyphenhyphenj3Ao0E283ZYWr/s320/arch805.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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At this point I remember thinking 'that looks very familiar...' and in a way it was, my very own 'photo from the trenches' appearing as a cover image on Current Archaeology magazine a few months previously.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifidf6NsSTRY5U76mAtallDDbCls3USpN1u7LKZdbbysTfA0xMDgRXvVVnWUntTp3qI54oyr8wopgvfKd6Lijk5LegdJwqgOXnhdB550TKKgpQ4oIuOWApUoCaO2M0gSG4xSabpwXmjHGU/s1600/dig600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifidf6NsSTRY5U76mAtallDDbCls3USpN1u7LKZdbbysTfA0xMDgRXvVVnWUntTp3qI54oyr8wopgvfKd6Lijk5LegdJwqgOXnhdB550TKKgpQ4oIuOWApUoCaO2M0gSG4xSabpwXmjHGU/s320/dig600.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Perhaps, I wondered, if only we'd dug a bit deeper at the site, we too could have found and opened the Pandorica (although I suspect we wouldn't have made such a good job of the overall recording).</div>
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Reading this week's Radio Times (other TV listing magazines are available) detailing the upcoming 2017 series </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7lFX8TQYtBc_KJ3J6wtBG8gDfUe32Nm8Y-1iq8N_AwONkI816jpsh7zJYsoMddz2GYbDFJfmKUIoKU1np9y0sBYRSn3my4T_wLkEr4XSb_ovQRpho3ckRQWM_eIidnp8SwkIrU8isy9PH/s1600/drwho.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7lFX8TQYtBc_KJ3J6wtBG8gDfUe32Nm8Y-1iq8N_AwONkI816jpsh7zJYsoMddz2GYbDFJfmKUIoKU1np9y0sBYRSn3my4T_wLkEr4XSb_ovQRpho3ckRQWM_eIidnp8SwkIrU8isy9PH/s320/drwho.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I see that [Spoiler Alert] episode 10, entitled "The Eaters of Light" (by Rona Munro) is described in the following terms:</div>
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"A long time ago, the Roman legion of the ninth vanished into the mists of Scotland. Bill has a theory about what happened, and the Doctor has a time machine. But when they arrive in ancient Aberdeenshire, what they find is a far greater threat than any army. In a cairn, on a hillside, is a doorway leading to the end of the world"</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii2RtN8VfvYNhlnWCY8fY9c3gh9iXX3nXD_SQPL9-_8o1usLVVO6VMtAjeiTD2QNkrW_gj9pnmxWNbmfnu6jZoR9nrs0Ik52kA5fruGuhjPXLGVnG7ssOXN5N1caqDLRuD_SR1oa6H9soP/s1600/drwho2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii2RtN8VfvYNhlnWCY8fY9c3gh9iXX3nXD_SQPL9-_8o1usLVVO6VMtAjeiTD2QNkrW_gj9pnmxWNbmfnu6jZoR9nrs0Ik52kA5fruGuhjPXLGVnG7ssOXN5N1caqDLRuD_SR1oa6H9soP/s320/drwho2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Do excuse me, I think I need to lie down in a darkened room for around 10 weeks....see you in June.</div>
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Miles Russellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07581296676233050831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5120401471738916620.post-46148768487502316902017-04-07T09:15:00.000-07:002017-04-07T11:16:16.235-07:00Being 'in Harry Hill'<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Were you once in Harry Hill?" </div>
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Apart from the distinctly 'tabloid' (and, when you come to think of it, rather personal) nature of the question, I had to acknowledge that the answer was indeed in the affirmative.</div>
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"Yes, I did briefly make an appearance in the programme <i>Harry Hill's TV Burp </i>back in 2003". I smiled at the student whom, I couldn't help but noticing, had probably been around 4 years old at the time.<br />
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We had just come to the end of a long (but I like to think profitable) dissertation meeting, outlining in detail the nature of the Harvard Referencing system, but I could already feel my synapses starting to decay. I could also, however, sense that the student was awaiting further input.</div>
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"It was a piece on the Piltdown skull, a riff based on something I'd said in another programme about how strange it was to think that the earliest human could have come from the Home Counties of England"</div>
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[silence]</div>
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"and that the skull may therefore have been a bus conductor from the 1970s ITV situation comedy <i>On the Buses</i>"<br />
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[more silence - this time accompanied by awkward shuffling]</div>
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"called Blakey"</div>
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I guess you had to be there. </div>
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Still, at the time, I recall that this 9 second appearance gained more attention than anything I had ever written, researched or previously published, to the extent that even the man in the Off Licence later greeted me with a "ere, didn't I just see you on the telly? Sandra, Sandra, this man's a friend of Harry Hill" (followed by an ultimately futile attempt to explain to both the owner and Sandra that although yes, I had appeared on Harry Hill's programme in a pre-recorded clip, no I hadn't actually met Harry Hill and therefore couldn't really think of him as an acquaintance).</div>
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I felt that it was now my turn to ask the student a question: "why do you want to know?"</div>
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For a moment he looked a little non-plussed. "Well", he confessed, "it says on Wikipedia that you were once his TV expert of the week".</div>
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Ah yes, how everything else you may have achieved in life ultimately fades to nothing when it comes to the extraordinary power of the goggle-box...</div>
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<span style="text-align: justify;">...is term over yet?</span><br />
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<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span>Miles Russellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07581296676233050831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5120401471738916620.post-78065383846099130512017-04-04T10:35:00.000-07:002017-04-04T10:35:02.960-07:00Gorffwys mewn Hedd - Geoff Wainwright<div style="text-align: justify;">
In remembrance of professor Geoffrey John Wainwright (1937-2017): colleague,
friend and archaeologist without equal. Working with you was a privilege and an honour. </div>
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Gorffwys mewn Hedd</div>
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Miles Russellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07581296676233050831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5120401471738916620.post-48730639228629578152017-03-17T11:16:00.000-07:002017-03-17T13:55:49.987-07:00Archaeo-terrors (no. 1): a fear of landing<div style="text-align: justify;">
Moments before I got into the plane I remembered just how just much I disliked landing. Flying, as I think I've noted before, is actually alright (once you get past the stomach-churning, underwear-soiling terror of taking off). Yes, flying is ok; i<span style="text-align: justify;">t's the hurtling back down to earth at high speed with no clear evidence that your flimsy plane can fool gravity sufficiently long enough to allow you to land safely that can be officially classed as mega squeaky-bum-time. </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: justify;">As I sat in Old Sarum Airfield cafe, patiently waiting for the plane to be made ready, I was reminded of Douglas Adam's description of the Vogon Constructor Fleet: a series of alien vessels which hung in the sky above Earth "in much the same way that bricks don't".</span><br />
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<span style="text-align: justify;">I finished my ploughman's lunch, took a deep breath and visited the loo one last time just to be on the safe side. </span><br />
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Today I was going to be travelling across the air-space of Wiltshire and Dorset in order to peer down at some rather impressive ancient monuments. The route (and, indeed, entire journey) was completely my fault, having been asked by a TV company to describe which prehistoric earthworks best reflected the Neolithic, Bronze Age and Iron Age of southern England. Having provided a lengthy list, and assuming we might be visiting, at least of few of them on foot, I was now facing a 3 hour flight in order to get them all in.<br />
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This time, aside from the fear of landing, there were added feelings of claustrophobia to contend with for I was crammed into the back seat of a (very) small plane with the sound recordist (and all of his kit), whilst the documentary director sat in the front leaning across the pilot, buttocks pressed firmly against the windscreen, camera pointing up my nostrils. "Remember, don't look directly at the lens" he said, though I confess my line of sight was more than slightly restricted as it was. Eventually I settled on an uncomfortable position, head turned 90 degrees to my body, nose touching the side window. With a set of headphones now encasing much of my face, I could no longer see the pilot (which was probably just as well as I suspected that, what with the camera, sound kit, director's backside, sound-recorder and myself, he actually had very little room to do any serious flying). </div>
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Hod Hill appeared below us and it was time to discuss the Roman Invasion of Britain</div>
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Swooping over the hillfort (several times) I began to wonder how much easier the Roman invasion of Britain would have been had the legions of Claudius been in possession of a Stuka dive-bomber. Certainly our current flight over the hill seemed to have a dramatic effect on those engaged in walking / picnicking / dog-walking / romancing across the upper slopes, sending many of them scurrying for cover.</div>
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After 20 minutes we were ready to move on.<br />
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Oh look Maiden Castle. We strafed the hillfort whilst I tried to enthuse about the excavations of Tessa and Mortimer Wheeler. This was beginning to feel a bit like trying to read a book, sing and remember all the lines to the poetry of William Wordsworth whilst sitting on a rollercoaster.</div>
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Next up Avebury.<br />
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<br />
Then Silbury Hill<br />
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By now I was starting to feel decidedly ill. I've never really experienced air-sickness before, but I was learning quick. "Keep talking", the director enthused "you're doing great", but I was now uncomfortably aware of a major disconnect between brain (which was urging the contents of my stomach to say exactly where they were) and my mouth (which was gibbering incoherently).</div>
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Then, as we lurched suddenly downwards and to the left without warning, I glimpsed the earthworks of Old Sarum, whizzing by at high speed, and I knew, with some satisfaction, that we would soon be coming in to land.</div>
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All the terror that normally surrounded the act of landing had evaporated (together with my appetite); now I was only too glad to see the ground rearing up at us like a half-starved lion about to devour a particularly plump wildebeest. </div>
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We were home.</div>
Miles Russellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07581296676233050831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5120401471738916620.post-49074032950205190102017-03-07T13:56:00.000-08:002017-03-08T04:26:32.932-08:00Richard III strikes-back?<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
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<span style="text-align: justify;">Last year, in what the American satellite news channel </span><span style="text-align: justify;">CNN described as "the fairy tale that gripped the world", Leicester City (Football Club) won the English Premiership (football) trophy. As long term readers of this blog know, my love of football is not quite as great as my love of Venezuelan goat throttling and so, as a consequence, I was more or less completely 'ungripped' by the aforementioned tale from the world of fairydom. What did intrigue me, however, was the way in which an archaeological discovery was taken by many in the media to explain the success of the Leicester team. </span></div>
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Apparently it was all the fault of Richard III</div>
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The discovery, exhumation and final reburial of Dickie 3 was, as even the more sober sports journalists at the BBC felt obliged to comment, surely the main reason why the fortunes of the club changed so dramatically, bringing them glory, riches, unparalleled success and international fame.<br />
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That's all well and good; you can believe what you like (honestly) - at the end of the day, I just have to say that it's nice to see that the archaeological disturbance of a Medieval monarch didn't unleash the usual round of plague, pestilence and shuffling armies of the undead.<br />
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All in all, the good people of Leicester seem to have escaped rather lightly.<br />
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But, of course, they haven't. Today, in 2017, with Leicester FC close to relegation (so the same journalists keep telling me), the team in utter disarray, the fans upset and the manager ignominiously dumped, it all looks so very different.<br />
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What could possibly be the reason?<br />
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Well, given the universally-held belief that the triumph in 2016 was solely "down to the big famous King Richard", there can only be one explanation: pleased though he was to be freed from beneath the municipal car park of Leicester, King Richard ultimately did not want to be reburied in, or anywhere near, the town.<br />
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Big mistake.<br />
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What's worse, I fear, is the fact that new caretaker manager for Leicester FC is the inappropriately named Craig Shakespeare</div>
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Given the totally positive spin that the playwright Shakespeare gave to Richard III in his eponymous play, what could possibly go wrong?</div>
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<br />Miles Russellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07581296676233050831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5120401471738916620.post-69586961925573752902017-02-05T10:01:00.001-08:002017-02-05T10:33:59.683-08:00RIP John Hurt<div style="text-align: justify;">
I was particularly saddened, like so many millions, to hear that Sir John Hurt had passed away. I only met him once (pretty much my only celebrity encounter) in a restaurant on the Isle of Man (when all I could think to say was 'You're John Hurt' - which I kinda think he knew anyway) so I cannot claim, by any stretch of the imagination, to have <i>known </i>him but, like many people, I felt, thanks to his long and successful acting career, that in someway I did.<br />
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That face, that beautifully 'lived-in' look and (most importantly) <i>that voice</i>.</div>
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I first saw him in <i>Alien, </i>back in 1979, his character being [SPOILER ALERT] the first human host of the H.R.Giger-inspired multi-limbed-nasty. Even today the painstakingly slow exo-archaeological investigation of the hatching alien egg makes me feel decidedly queasy...<br />
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Later on, I discovered the TV series <i>I Claudius, </i>in which he was third emperor Gaius (Caligula), a truly plausible, mesmerizing and utterly terrifying performance. I only have to hear him utter the line "Do you think I'm mad?" to be reduced to a quivering wreck.<br />
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And then, of course, among the many, many roles, we've had (another of my personal favourites) Harold 'Ox' Oxley, one-time colleague of Indiana Jones in the <i>Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, </i>an archaeologist driven to madness by an obsessive search (and, yes, I have met people exactly like this)</div>
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<span style="text-align: justify;">But in 2013 he played a role that he will, for many, be most fondly remembered: the 'War Doctor' </span><br />
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In recent debates surrounding the future of long-running SciFi series <i>Doctor Who</i> (generated now that Peter Capaldi has announced he's hanging up his hoody), many journalists have (rather scandalously) forgotten Sir John's contribution. No, the next actor / actress to play 'the Doctor' will NOT be number 13, thank you very much, for there have, thanks to the devilishly-complex mind of showrunner Steven Moffat, already been 13 incarnations of the Time Lord (Capaldi being the final one to date). In fact, there he is, sandwiched in between Doctor no. 8 (Paul McGann) and Doctor no. 10 (Christopher Eccleston):</div>
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Rest in peace Sir John: actor, performer, gentleman, one-time hellraiser, Roman emperor, astronaut, Time Lord, surprised restaurant guest and celluloid archaeologist. You will be greatly missed. </div>
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<br />Miles Russellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07581296676233050831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5120401471738916620.post-58703502248194234562017-02-04T09:03:00.000-08:002017-02-04T09:03:08.200-08:00Archaeo-braindump<div style="text-align: justify;">
There is a curious moment in any presentation, however interesting it may be, when, as a member of the audience desperately trying to stay awake, I find myself gradually succumbing to sleep and starting to hallucinate. This semi-conscious dream state can cause any number of problems (apart from the usual, incoherent and insensible shouting), such as the time I very nearly smacked the back of the man sat in front of me, convinced as I was that his head was a cat trying to eat a two-tier birthday cake (mine). </div>
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This time, as I slipped relentlessly towards the cliff face of slumberland, I was in an audience listening to the headmaster of a local school reading out the various school house names, most of which were taken from eminent British scientists (strange what I do for fun). Just moments before the critical stage of cat-cake-head-slap-interface, I was suddenly brought to my senses by a child, sat behind me, who loudly informed their respective parental unit that Charles Darwin "was the man who discovered animals"</div>
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There could be no doubt that this particular discovery had been a momentous one, rightly earning Darwin a place in the history books. I couldn't help but wonder, as I slowly careered back to the land of the living, what people had done before Darwin had made his research public. It must have been quite a shock for humans to discover that they were not alone (sharing the planet with a mass of four legged creatures of all shapes, sizes and fur-types) but boy, did it open up the food potential. No more carrots and cabbage - from the moment of Darwin's discovery, people would be eating meat, sometimes in dangerously large amounts.</div>
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In a similar vein, I recall, some time ago, being told by a very earnest six-year-old that Isaac Newton had invented gravity. Quite how anyone had coped, prior to Newton's amazing invention, remains unclear. Perhaps people simply floated along the surface of the Earth, desperately clinging on to rocks and trees, bumping into one another and, just occasionally, spinning off into deep space.</div>
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Miles Russellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07581296676233050831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5120401471738916620.post-35561065686539603912017-02-03T00:17:00.000-08:002017-02-05T12:50:48.562-08:00The Antiquity of Alternative Facts<div style="text-align: justify;">
There's currently a lot of 'Alternative Facts' (or 'lies' as they used to be called) in the news. You don't have to be a bloated, misogynist, sexist, homophobic, billionaire racist in order to promote the dissemination of blatant untruths (though it evidently helps), for such things have (sadly) been skulking around for millennia.<br />
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Alternative Facts and Fake News have a long (and not very distinguished) history. Every brutal despot needs to keep a tight control on 'the truth', especially if it is deemed unpalatable. Those who have followed this blog for some time (both of you) know that I have a love / hate (mostly hate) relationship with 'Double-speak', the lexicon of managerial confusion which drives the world of politics and business. Those who claim to lead, frequently do so by disguising their discrepant / warped / sickening perspective through the use of jargon, euphemism, misinformation, verbal camouflage and techno-babble, excising legitimate forms of speech through a word-based form of regime-change.<br />
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Unfortunately it has always been thus,<br />
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Although 'Alternative Facts' may be a wholly new euphemism (for a state-sponsored lie), the denial by a government of the truth, however much evidence there is to the contrary, is something that can be traced right back to the earliest civilizations. Don't believe me? Well let's just quickly flit to the 13th century BC and the Battle of Kadesh, fought somewhere along, what is now, the border between Syria and Lebanon. This particularly futile conflict was between the chariot-driven Egyptian army of Pharaoh Ramesses II and the similarly equipped forces of the Hittite king Muwatalli II. We don't know who won the battle, as both sides went home claiming a major victory. For Ramesses, his post-match celebration was marked by the covering of the great temple at Abu Simbel with scenes unequivocally 'proving' that he had single-handedly 'won' the war.</div>
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Something to which the Hittites could justifiably retort: "liar, liar, pants on fire"</div>
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In the days before objective journalism and a free press (two rather hopelessly idealistic terms, I know), it would have been almost impossible for anyone to prove either Ramesses or Muwatalli wrong. All-powerful psychopaths with a determination to make history in their own image can print whatever version of the 'truth' they like. </div>
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One of my own favourite pieces of Fake News from the Ancient World of Alternative Facts was generated by the Roman emperor Septimius Severus in the early 3rd century AD. Severus, like so many politicians of more recent times, believed that the best way to revive his failing career whilst simultaneously boosting popularity at home, was to start an unprovoked war in a distant land. His subsequent invasion of northern Britain was a particularly catastrophic example of the genre.<br />
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Launching a blitzkrieg assault from York, Severus' legions quickly got bogged down (literally) in the swamps and lost in the forested uplands of Scotland.
Here they were easy targets. “The Romans suffered great hardships” the historian Dio Cassius tells us, “any stragglers became a prey to ambush”. With
supply lines hampered and the army left with no clear targets, their
advance faltered. “Unable to go on” Dio Cassius says, “they would be killed by
their own men so they might not fall into enemy hands. As a result as many as
50,000 died in all”. <o:p></o:p></div>
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None of this comes across in the official version of the campaign, of course, contemporary coinage showing the emperor Severus both as a man of peace </div>
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and as a fearsome warrior, single-handedly riding down his barbarian foe.</div>
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Aside from the excessively high casualty rate, evidently a piece of 'Fake News' that the Roman government was keen to dismiss, any hint that Severus himself was unwell (later confirmed by Dio Cassius), could be deflected by the deployment of 'Alternative Facts', such as an image of him gallantly stamping on the heads of his enemy with the iron-shod hooves of his own personal Champion-the-Wonder-Horse. </div>
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Oh, and of course he wasn't losing the war; far from it. Look, he was clearly winning multiple victories and acquiring much in the way of barbarian loot</div>
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whilst Victory herself was keen to crown him with a laurel wreath as he sat manfully on his imperial throne, firmly clasping his ball (a symbolic representation of the Roman world).</div>
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In reality however, failing to attain the glory he so desperately sought, Severus descended
into violent recrimination. Finally, in AD 211, he died; crippled by illness and frustrated by an inability to get his own way. After his funeral, the campaign was swiftly terminated and all his foreign policy decisions reversed.<br />
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So, in this time of lies, fake news, and propaganda, be assured that the fleshy buttocks of Alternative Fact will eventually be ripped apart by the slavering jaws of history. It, too, has always been thus.</div>
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Miles Russellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07581296676233050831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5120401471738916620.post-33457921558800743302017-01-29T06:02:00.001-08:002017-02-04T01:12:02.773-08:00Moanhenge 4: Curse of the Petrolheads <div style="text-align: justify;">
Stonehenge: the site that keeps on giving. This month it's a debate surrounding the building (sometime in the future) of a road tunnel in order to remove the A303 which appears to have captured the attention of both public and the media.</div>
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Whilst most people, with perhaps the obvious exception of Jeremy Clarkson, believe that the A303 is too busy, too full of cars and far, far to close to one of the world's most iconic ancient monuments, there is no real consensus as to how the problem can be resolved. A tunnel, to bury the road, has been proposed but no one can currently agree as to whether this is a good thing or, if it is, where the tunnel should go in order to avoid damage to areas of human habitation, archaeological sites or areas of environmental concern (of which there are many). </div>
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Simon Jenkins, however, writing in the pro-Conservative party paper the Spectator, has noted that in his opinion, the proposed tunnel is "a monumental folly".</div>
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Jenkins writes: “Stonehenge is not like France’s Lascaux
Caves, so fragile they have had to be closed in favour of a facsimile” a point of view which is, I feel I must point out, wrong on so many levels, bearing in mind that it is precisely the fragility of both stones and their setting that currently precludes the public from getting close to (or rubbing up against) the monument. "What
you see is what you get", Jenkins writes, "robust stones requiring little upkeep”. Wow. Remind me again; this is the same Simon Jenkins who was once deputy chairman of English Heritage and chairman of the National Trust isn't it? One would hope that he knew something (anything) about the upkeep of ancient monuments and the pressures of visitor access, pollution, ground disturbance etc. </div>
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What I find really troubling, however, is Jenkins' apparent rage against the great outdoors, noting that the thrill of Stonehenge ”is as much the view from afar as from close
to, and is enjoyed by millions who drive past on their way to the West Country.
It is the thrill of a glimpse, a passing reminder of the longevity of human
habitation in this land."</div>
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Now, stop me if I misunderstand this, but what he appears to be saying is that Salisbury Plain is best appreciated, not by standing in the middle of it, breathing deeply, feeling the earth beneath your feet, listening to birdsong and moving along paths created centuries before, but by sitting behind the wheel of a car in a long traffic queue, breathing in exhaust fumes and shouting abuse at the white van driver in front who just inexplicably cut you up without indicating.</div>
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Mmmmm. I can picture it now. Lovely.</div>
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Whilst I would be the first to admit that the sudden glimpse of the sarsen trilithons of Stonehenge is indeed an uplifting one, it is, I think, far more effective when seen, as it was designed to be, on foot. Only then can you truly appreciate the beauty, scale, achievement and sheer monumentality of the construct. </div>
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Stonehenge, like all architectural efforts of the British Neolithic and Early Bronze Age, was designed to be seen, not from afar, but by surprise and close up. If you want to understand the monument, you have to approach it along the Avenue, walking along the ancient ceremonial path that snakes out of sight along the dry valleys to the northeast of the stones. Here, moving uphill with no clear idea of where you are ultimately heading, the stones suddenly emerge, as if by magic: intimidating, awe-inspiring and really quite wonderful. </div>
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Now that the disfiguring tarmac scar of the A344, which for decades separated the stones from the Avenue, has been removed, this prehistoric approach is now possible in its entirety. </div>
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Mr Jenkins, however, seems wholly unaware of this, raging that “Stonehenge presents a direct conflict
between the ‘bought rights’ of visitors to the stones, and the freedom of
members of the wider public to see them from afar" adding that "a tunnel would kill the motorist’s
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Aside from the rather gob-smacking ignorance of this particular comment (noting, as we just have, how the stones were meant to be approached along the Avenue, retaining the key element of surprise, and not merely to gawp at them from 'afar') I would like to point out that the main purpose of driving on the A303 is to get to point B from point A as easily (and ideally as quickly) as possible. Having a world heritage site 'pop up' in plain view as you attempt to do this is not only distracting but really quite dangerous, contributing to the traffic jam as countless drivers slow down to 'rubber neck' the stones (as they would a collision on the other side of the carriageway). </div>
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Perhaps, if you want a distracting, awe-inspiring view on your car journey, Mr Jenkins, you could stash a set of postcards in the glove compartment of your 4x4 and, at discrete moments in the drive you could arrange for a passenger to remove them, one at a time, and pass them before your eyes: "oh look, Stonehenge"; "oh look, the Acropolis"; "oh look, the Taj Mahal"; "oh look, the pyramids of Giza" etc etc. </div>
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My, how the journey would simply fly by.</div>
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Alternatively, of course, you could park your car and get out. Visiting the Stonehenge visitor centre, you could then start to unwind from your, no doubt rather stressful, journey and eat some cake in the cafe. </div>
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You could also walk around the excellent displays, take in the reconstruction Neolithic houses and perhaps stroll (or even get the land-train if you want to travel by a petrol-fueled vehicle a little bit more) right up to the stones where, if you divert to the Avenue, you could approach the monument (across National Trust land) and see the site in the way that it was originally intended.</div>
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You'll find that it's quite an amazing experience. </div>
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Miles Russellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07581296676233050831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5120401471738916620.post-57755757429473988462017-01-26T00:52:00.000-08:002017-01-28T01:23:13.798-08:00Secrets of Orkney: Time Travelling Voles!<span style="text-align: justify;">Sun, Sea, Sand and Statigraphy, the new BBC series 'Britain's Ancient Capital: Secrets of Orkney' had the lot.</span><br />
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Whilst critics have been generally positive about the BBC's recent series, and, as a rather fanatical consumer of televisual-archaeology, I must say that I loved it, the archaeological community has been generally less kind. A number of academics and archaeo-professionals have taken to the web in an apoplectic rage, slamming the facts as presented (claiming that complex theories were being dumbed-down) and ranting about the perceived 'simplistic style of presentation' (citing 'breathless enthusiasm'). </div>
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This strikes me as rather perverse, akin, perhaps, to defecating in your own dinner (not advisable for those wishing to try it at home). Let's face it; the programme wasn't made for the academic community. </div>
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Personally (as I think I've noted), I thought it was superb: I mean what's not to like?<br />
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If you'd told me that the BBC would set aside three hours of prime time for a detailed examination of Neolithic archaeology, I would have thought you a couple of olives short of a dinner party. Usually, if we're talking archaeo-broadcasting, it's only Ancient Egypt / Ancient Rome that gets coverage (and generally just the troubling / depraved world of Akhenaten / Tutankhamun or Caesar / Caligula). If prehistory is mentioned on the goggle-box at all, you can bet that it's the standard 'What was Stonehenge for' type of show (usually with added extra: 'only one man has the answer') that gets commissioned, or worse a Freeview cut-price programme on Forbidden / Secret / Weird / Made up archaeology (delete as applicable).</div>
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But three hours (THREE hours) on my very own favourite subject (Neolithic monumental archaeology in case you were wondering) was pure, unadulterated TV heaven.</div>
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OK, so yes certain facts and theories were indeed simplified for a TV audience, but then this wasn't a set of academic papers designed for peer review in a specialist journal. If the programme inspired, entertained or even got just one member of the Great British public interested in the marvels of prehistory, then I would say it was an unqualified success. If, in these uncertain (and rather depressing) times, the message that archaeology is both important and exciting gets 'out there' to the wider world thanks to the medium of TV, then, as far as I'm concerned, that's all good. </div>
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My only (slight) moment of concern came with the repeated statement that Orkney voles were "travellers in time". Whilst I have no doubt in the ability of these small mammals to alter the nature of vegetation to a limited degree, I doubt they possess mastery over time and space.</div>
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Now you mention it, however, I do recall, from the depths of my own distant undergraduate past, something called the 'Vole Clock' which, although memory fails, had something to do with something important about something that happened millions of years ago (....perhaps). It's entirely possible, of course, that I missed the significance of the vole-clock-hypothesis, but, if these rodents have indeed discovered the secret of time travel, then all our endless theories concerning the Neolithic are ultimately pointless; all we have to do in order to fully understand the past is harness ourselves to a vole and jump back into deep time.</div>
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Vole-jump: now that IS a series that I think everyone would want to see.</div>
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Miles Russellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07581296676233050831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5120401471738916620.post-19460980299454984822017-01-21T00:31:00.000-08:002017-01-21T00:35:47.193-08:00One Show to bring them all (and in the Piltdown bind them)<div style="text-align: justify;">
I don't normally watch the One Show. That's not a comment on the content of the programme, merely that it's on at a time when I'm either working, shopping, cooking or slumped head down in my upstairs office sobbing (that's another story entirely).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiATnzpU8jqSWe9PLIJZnnsJ_idhtPwRnW0r9roaOEaLDIEPWeEkvqStyjdL_NO2bF5L66CjOS9JP-QJEoNdS4l3f7EXfl37xLy4hoq114Y5GqCA2-3A0WFIzizrWAOiD13i7LR45N9aPT1/s1600/One-Show-small1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiATnzpU8jqSWe9PLIJZnnsJ_idhtPwRnW0r9roaOEaLDIEPWeEkvqStyjdL_NO2bF5L66CjOS9JP-QJEoNdS4l3f7EXfl37xLy4hoq114Y5GqCA2-3A0WFIzizrWAOiD13i7LR45N9aPT1/s320/One-Show-small1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Today, however, as I turned the goggle-box on (in order to temporarily dull my senses) the programme lunged out at me, forcibly grabbing my attention.</div>
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"and later on in the show our very own Ruth Goodman will be taking a look at the Piltdown Man hoax" the genial TV presenter Matt Baker effortlessly enthused.</div>
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Piltdown Man. Anyone who knows me (both of you) knows also that I have spent a lot of my time working on the Piltdown hoax (as indeed have quite a few other people over the last century, albeit for different reasons). 14 years on since I published 'Piltdown Man: the Secret Life of Charles Dawson' and five years since the follow up 'Piltdown Man: case closed' I find myself being constantly drawn back to the 'find'. That's a bit strange really, given that I really believe the case, with regard to the perpetrator of the hoax, is most definitely closed - still people want to hear more. </div>
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Temporarily shelving my desire to be 'completely and utterly miffed' at not being asked to contribute (I did for one moment wonder if I had contributed and then forgotten all about it) I sat down and waited.</div>
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Sure enough, 'our very own Ruth Goodman' appeared</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsaH0xhSBHh3HZ8f8Ihyphenhyphen14ci698WyMwHkBahalxU90bHyrxxJFSTT0D58be_fZ6lck7-zphFTNGUtHhsXT0BBkP75tESMAGtX2Vf6siDDKuhY63NbbDrFRApMGXhe-tbMVr-HVM6_XTqu6/s1600/Piltdown1FOTB65C.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsaH0xhSBHh3HZ8f8Ihyphenhyphen14ci698WyMwHkBahalxU90bHyrxxJFSTT0D58be_fZ6lck7-zphFTNGUtHhsXT0BBkP75tESMAGtX2Vf6siDDKuhY63NbbDrFRApMGXhe-tbMVr-HVM6_XTqu6/s320/Piltdown1FOTB65C.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Introducing the 'mystery' of the Piltdown find, the so-called Missing Link first reported in 1912, Ruth then collared Professor Chris Stringer whose office, in the Natural History Museum, appeared to have been redesigned as a scene of crime lab (complete with pin board, photos, pins and string). Poor old Chris, I thought: given how many new and exciting discoveries there are in the world of evolutionary science / Palaeolithic archaeology, it must be frustrating to have to keep talking about the one artefact that was clearly fraudulent. Still, he looked as if he was bearing up well under the pressure of interrogation. </div>
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With the three potential culprits identified (Arthur Smith Woodward, Charles Dawson and Arthur Conan Doyle), Ruth then surprised Dr Isabelle De Groote of Liverpool John Moores University who at that point was hard at work analysing the bone assemblage. Isabelle could, Ruth assured us, help point the decisive finger at the forger</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdtVC4tQ836IxeczSDmlVFvWqFc8rFWkQKNEbJACKurChcVW4SHpUkGDZLzgnAYngZMI4I3UtVT9Otfp3YLARWbDh0IBjBkFQwaB-NDm5eb3FNbFbifQi5indxpsfWNkuoeqOp9goeWll9/s1600/Piltdown3FOTD4CE.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdtVC4tQ836IxeczSDmlVFvWqFc8rFWkQKNEbJACKurChcVW4SHpUkGDZLzgnAYngZMI4I3UtVT9Otfp3YLARWbDh0IBjBkFQwaB-NDm5eb3FNbFbifQi5indxpsfWNkuoeqOp9goeWll9/s320/Piltdown3FOTD4CE.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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And so, the fact that the jaw of Piltdown I matched those pieces of the Piltdown II jaw (which Charles Dawson discovered alone) proved, so Ruth assured us, that there was only one person behind the hoax which tonight, Matthew, she could finally reveal was none other than Mr Charles Dawson himself</div>
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So there you go, thank you BBC. Apart from the fact that Joseph Weiner, in his 1955 book 'The Piltdown Forgery' made this point and apart from the fact that Robert Downes research in the 1960s made this point, and apart from the fact that John Walsh in his 1996 book 'Unravelling Piltdown' made this point and apart from the fact that I made this point in my 2003 and 2012 books and apart from the fact that every TV documentary made since 2000 has also made this point, that's an entirely new revelation. </div>
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I wouldn't mind so much if the One Show itself hadn't screened a short film in 2009 where I took programme regular Mike Dilger to the site of the Piltdown discovery (at Barkham Manor) and explained how (and why) Charles Dawson had done it.</div>
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Now I know people's memories are short but this was only eight sodding years ago...!</div>
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Ah well, least I know that in less than a decade the One Show will be able to reveal who faked Piltdown Man. In the best style of Scooby Doo, I've really no idea who it could be.</div>
Miles Russellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07581296676233050831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5120401471738916620.post-76714738654949884992017-01-20T04:02:00.000-08:002017-01-20T04:02:37.949-08:00Our one duty to history...<div style="text-align: justify;">
So, I deleted the emails....trust me, it's better that way</div>
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Emerging from a lengthy period of writing on the nature of historical memory, folklore and oral tradition, I immediately embarked on a personal journey of remembrance, collating, cataloging and playing music from my own distant past in order to kick start the brain prior to the start of semester 2 and the Academic Timetable of Doom (a lesser known Indiana Jones movie).</div>
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But where to begin?</div>
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Hungrily searching through the vinyl collection stored (inexplicably) in the hallway, I (re)discovered a number of mislaid gems, first of which was the 1986 single 'Mexico Sundown Blues' by the quite wonderful James Ray and the Performance (Merciful Release: MRAY52 if you need to know), an electro-gothic stomp about (so I distinctly remembered - or at least thought I did) the dangers of groundwater pollution in America </div>
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<span style="text-align: justify;">Putting it on the turntable I waited for the track began with the particularly unforgettable opening growl:</span><br />
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"It's in the water</div>
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It's in the ground</div>
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It's in the air and</div>
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It's all around"</div>
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I remembered that line particularly well, singing (perhaps too generous a term) along in seedy London nightclubs (there were and, I suspect still are, many of these), parties and long evenings in the UCL bar. When the vocal track started up this time, however, I was momentarily non-plussed by the fact that Mr Ray appeared have a set of lyrics in front of him that were different somehow - off-kilter, as it were.<br />
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An internet lyric database immediately beckoned.<br />
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Of course we didn't have such useful research tools back in prehistory, having to rely instead upon those (few) bands who generously printed lyrics onto their record sleeves (I appreciate that I'm using rather antiquated words now) or to what could be (poorly) discerned between needle, groove and speakers (ditto). </div>
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It was then that the dangers of the world wide web became immediately apparent: showing how things really were without the distracting fog of memory. The lyrics that I recalled were, in fact, nothing like the lyrics as recorded, the opening lines being (in my mind anyway) the far less arresting:</div>
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"Mexico Girl</div>
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Mexico Boy</div>
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What am I supposed to do now?"</div>
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So, less a cry on the horrors of pollution and more a paean to gender-based-confusion (possibly) in a Federal Republic. Admittedly there is a line, further on, that notes </div>
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"Life is underground</div>
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Poisons all around"<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike></div>
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Although, to be fair, this may be an allusion to the gargantuan quantity of drugs consumed by the record industry in the mid 1980s (perhaps - what do I know?). As Oscar Wilde once noted "The one duty we owe to history is to re-write it". Well, consider my own history to be in the process of significant revision - my late teenage years were evidently a lie...</div>
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Anyway, time for a major review of songs from the late 20th century - perhaps my next academic endeavour? Who knows what joys I may discover? Anyway, as the great Marilyn Manson once said "Your lemonade stand is on a big plane"...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEqu8P96iAB5JK76y6mJHiUDhuDE0z99NqwpzKPMjJpoY6_2mrQiVXKeVEy8-0Pp0CPXM1lpUDcETR5BunoXxK6uX0Qs5-_6yK0r5vF4hgrAh366DheKb6D3_Ys2CCYCvZbOJc-8b0nmF2/s1600/marilyn-manson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEqu8P96iAB5JK76y6mJHiUDhuDE0z99NqwpzKPMjJpoY6_2mrQiVXKeVEy8-0Pp0CPXM1lpUDcETR5BunoXxK6uX0Qs5-_6yK0r5vF4hgrAh366DheKb6D3_Ys2CCYCvZbOJc-8b0nmF2/s320/marilyn-manson.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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...possibly</div>
Miles Russellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07581296676233050831noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5120401471738916620.post-44518993051670549182016-05-30T00:38:00.001-07:002016-05-30T01:48:03.005-07:00The curse of the archaeo-inbox<div style="text-align: justify;">
After checking my emails this morning (despite it being a bank holiday) I discovered I have a new internet ID, the rather catchy sounding 'Inbox 4000'</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP_BNyuPjZdssfS_MFQWO819uFF8smStAttL53JzeaHPFFCaVXlEsyd0oTmZ4YPqK7rCeDvMNZ6Q1JfI_0EQTHfxb-BGrorFsq0ExyFVykDLRiN3TB_4qW7hWQD_aws-tSP0i6o4iKhpcp/s1600/arch50.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP_BNyuPjZdssfS_MFQWO819uFF8smStAttL53JzeaHPFFCaVXlEsyd0oTmZ4YPqK7rCeDvMNZ6Q1JfI_0EQTHfxb-BGrorFsq0ExyFVykDLRiN3TB_4qW7hWQD_aws-tSP0i6o4iKhpcp/s320/arch50.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Yes, that's right, just as I'm about to start a summer of archaeological fieldwork I realise that there are a mere 4,000 emails requiring my immediate attention. On average I receive between 300 and 400 emails a day. That may sound as if I'm extremely popular</div>
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Trust me, I'm not</div>
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The majority of messages are spam, but, hidden within them are meeting requests (many many meeting requests), academic reminders, endless pieces professional advice, student queries and the odd (sometimes very odd) personal message. It's the student queries and personal messages that I try to weed out first and answer, whilst the rest either get deleted or relegated to a 'read-respond-later' limbo.</div>
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Evidently it's that read-respond-later limbo that is expanding (at a quite ridiculous rate). I'm not convinced that there's really enough time in the world to read (or indeed respond to) the outstanding 4,000. Perhaps I should just delete them on the assumption that either they're spam (and can therefore be safely be ignored) or, if not, then it's simply too late to reply or do anything. Perhaps I should leave them and see how many more I accumulate by the end of August, when archaeological fieldwork comes to an end.</div>
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Who knows, by then I may be 'Inbox 10,000' </div>
Miles Russellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07581296676233050831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5120401471738916620.post-423211927298746172016-05-21T00:32:00.000-07:002016-05-21T00:34:56.713-07:00Archaeo-newswatch: Holy Grail Found <div style="text-align: justify;">
I awoke this morning to an explosive archaeological news story and one which, given it's importance, I'm surprised isn't the headline of the day (if not the week, month, year or century). </div>
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Apparently, according to the BBC, the FA Cup "is the Holy Grail"</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5WHysL2ayiCxQcSuQpd8FZd4ajmOK8p0YuWsAKeDlu_3jg7Iujzb5h1lb90ZG7ZODdp6hRZCbGdx_XybWyY_go8EujEK1Vc1oypbzp9McxFc1-xNgy081Sl4nDKpN-h8GFBdWE0qDLaM4/s1600/arch40.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5WHysL2ayiCxQcSuQpd8FZd4ajmOK8p0YuWsAKeDlu_3jg7Iujzb5h1lb90ZG7ZODdp6hRZCbGdx_XybWyY_go8EujEK1Vc1oypbzp9McxFc1-xNgy081Sl4nDKpN-h8GFBdWE0qDLaM4/s320/arch40.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Wow</div>
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I have to say that the significance of this particular piece of information took some time to register.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirrFIjJGVFnpNeu_i7g-u8UT8Auzq1Gi9TDAN7qBL8TybXASbpI2WEqGxUEbrEvocW7rtxFrh9Ik7wT_DgaEj0Rjs7L68eH21fHXwamzAt_nIZqSWHVTBM5k77WdpuuINhwvdFUiPpBT6O/s1600/arch44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirrFIjJGVFnpNeu_i7g-u8UT8Auzq1Gi9TDAN7qBL8TybXASbpI2WEqGxUEbrEvocW7rtxFrh9Ik7wT_DgaEj0Rjs7L68eH21fHXwamzAt_nIZqSWHVTBM5k77WdpuuINhwvdFUiPpBT6O/s320/arch44.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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The Holy Grail - <i>THE </i>Holy Grail has been found. The most important artefact in Arthurian mythology, an object that dates back to the earliest days of Christianity, something that, legend has it, can supply eternal youth, has been identified as the trophy that is presented to the winners of the Football Association Challenge Cup, an annual knockout competition held in England and Wales since the late 19th century - I really did not see that coming.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkSvG1BUiYWwVElHUeF2wMDo9kRCF5ZA_miWnfU3VotNpSbwUAZRl-NdHV82lZXjyymF3LsZlJdDWqh4-9rldeD3mgb16yhWxzqrtNsHNEmcOMq-5IkHT_xqvqZR_P3KvUCuNcbebRlbdy/s1600/arch43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkSvG1BUiYWwVElHUeF2wMDo9kRCF5ZA_miWnfU3VotNpSbwUAZRl-NdHV82lZXjyymF3LsZlJdDWqh4-9rldeD3mgb16yhWxzqrtNsHNEmcOMq-5IkHT_xqvqZR_P3KvUCuNcbebRlbdy/s320/arch43.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I repeat - 'Wow!'</div>
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Centuries of fruitless searching across the world and it was here, in Britain, all the time - that's certainly a major point to Grail lore specialists (who always knew it must be somewhere in the UK), and one in the eye for all the conspiracy-theorists and Dan Brown acolytes (who believed that 'the Grail' was some sort of code for a holy bloodline). </div>
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If only someone could explain where this incredible artefact has been in the two millennia since its first documented use in Judea.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLV6skQY743nhiYq3TJRdp3c9MFBZg1cxHYX_4QBbmrrfIVjw38Ie0FNsfDqeRnIFEBX9QSQ5IROa0p09CUoYjvVate7cyWY5XjVqZKf8Gs97wXoktVs9aZSucu8DsuEqvbCeysSJIE5co/s1600/arch45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLV6skQY743nhiYq3TJRdp3c9MFBZg1cxHYX_4QBbmrrfIVjw38Ie0FNsfDqeRnIFEBX9QSQ5IROa0p09CUoYjvVate7cyWY5XjVqZKf8Gs97wXoktVs9aZSucu8DsuEqvbCeysSJIE5co/s320/arch45.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Looking at the cup more closely though, using a host of images on the BBC and other news websites, I have to say that I'm not sure that the identification is particularly sound. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgra0oE4cfEW1k407Dbl31u8kYPwhzG_Ab_WZRoS_02lj4X5jIANAms-yl1j7y202v-y2SogHQbTQxT5LLcj4aHMllbVMhH-26iYhYF3PrxwKnsAn497p9EgGRT01o5T-LBJWN11qC8kXZH/s1600/arch42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgra0oE4cfEW1k407Dbl31u8kYPwhzG_Ab_WZRoS_02lj4X5jIANAms-yl1j7y202v-y2SogHQbTQxT5LLcj4aHMllbVMhH-26iYhYF3PrxwKnsAn497p9EgGRT01o5T-LBJWN11qC8kXZH/s320/arch42.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I have yet to ascertain who made the discovery, nor, indeed which university led the investigative team (although I'm still frantically scanning the internet to find out), for the design, shape and general level of ornamentation is not quite the sort of thing I would expect to see from an early 1st century AD context.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg63Md8UFEjkk3JX5GqfeduZCgcghr25seGBMUaOdQc-OsFtPiUY6PmelZtcFb924AJ6XRRetkxLyTAkRCTBbrpDxpFNj415ICAtuKWVj49vTslBw6aq2YYDgpHriPZY5kQ4xKxNxoJAKrM/s1600/arch41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg63Md8UFEjkk3JX5GqfeduZCgcghr25seGBMUaOdQc-OsFtPiUY6PmelZtcFb924AJ6XRRetkxLyTAkRCTBbrpDxpFNj415ICAtuKWVj49vTslBw6aq2YYDgpHriPZY5kQ4xKxNxoJAKrM/s320/arch41.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Perhaps it's just another piece of overblown media hype......</div>
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Miles Russellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07581296676233050831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5120401471738916620.post-58168942102482132142016-05-14T02:40:00.000-07:002016-05-14T02:42:17.994-07:00What does Europe mean to you?: 9<div style="text-align: justify;">
Well here we are again, the annual opportunity to choose an anthem for the Durotriges Big Dig archaeological excavation to be played loudly (and constantly) across the site tannoy system and in all site transportation in order to motivate, inspire and infuriate (in equal measure). Other people see the competition as 'the Eurovision Song Contest'. We, however, know the truth.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDoYJUIvMPIt0APER7FKozmYaC3n4gdbXOrK_9XN1wnkyFEaWMQFiXOaP9DqgSV6MSHBfdr72OrOOcZCEN3zMhnWyKDr3VwEfNb4mUq4YquMwA73fTcNZJC_Ibu53Hjsde_6dwW2GfZnJL/s1600/euro20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDoYJUIvMPIt0APER7FKozmYaC3n4gdbXOrK_9XN1wnkyFEaWMQFiXOaP9DqgSV6MSHBfdr72OrOOcZCEN3zMhnWyKDr3VwEfNb4mUq4YquMwA73fTcNZJC_Ibu53Hjsde_6dwW2GfZnJL/s320/euro20.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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This year the choice has been made particularly difficult by how seriously all participating countries are taking the competition: this year they are no trumpets, no trombones and no fur-clad, fire wielding, baggy-trousered maniacs 'hey-hey-heying' their way across the stage (well Greece came close, bless 'em, although they didn't make it to the final)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHEpk2FvLjC2oABJ_G9OalWaTS89LKSMCu70dIL5Yjbl4ALp69XKo92ftOg_-ZksjWK8_Gkx9NulimqVEedDfLfxuuIuISIFwsA42yElvXAajAhEyA_tTvc3TmZBp_8XX4p6Eu6XUi4myM/s1600/euro13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHEpk2FvLjC2oABJ_G9OalWaTS89LKSMCu70dIL5Yjbl4ALp69XKo92ftOg_-ZksjWK8_Gkx9NulimqVEedDfLfxuuIuISIFwsA42yElvXAajAhEyA_tTvc3TmZBp_8XX4p6Eu6XUi4myM/s320/euro13.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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although there is a song about Soviet-era atrocities committed by Stalin in Ukraine.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWYlcwW9LDnDHPNY0hrh-W0CW0vmFI_yKT2vZlTGqAdqO9Wz2c1qqjyZByV6pFV8m454BLRwfjIZcnO-oPGB2uAP5JAIX3tCRMolk_5uuX4viRh7AiZMzazUOykps3BuabkMuAZ1z_AVs0/s1600/euro10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWYlcwW9LDnDHPNY0hrh-W0CW0vmFI_yKT2vZlTGqAdqO9Wz2c1qqjyZByV6pFV8m454BLRwfjIZcnO-oPGB2uAP5JAIX3tCRMolk_5uuX4viRh7AiZMzazUOykps3BuabkMuAZ1z_AVs0/s320/euro10.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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OK so the usual collection of bizarre, non-song related accessories were on show in the semi-finals, like a woman from Moldova serenading a cosmonaut<br />
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an Israeli couple strapped to a spinning wheel</div>
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a Russian man nailed to a wall<br />
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some Cypriots in a cage<br />
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a near-naked Slovenian man stuck to a slanty-pole<br />
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and a completely naked man from Belarus patiently teaching a wolf how to fly<br />
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(that bit may have been lost in translation).<br />
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But, is there a song in the semifinals, or indeed the Grand Final (where the host country Sweden and the 'big five', comprising the UK, France, Germany, Spain and Italy, all join in), that could legitimately motivate 120 archaeologists to shift vast quantities of soil in record time throughout May, June and July? Well, it's the Grand Final tonight and, after all the votes have been counted, drinks drunk and nibbles consumed, the winner will be announced...<br />
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...just don't hold your breath - it may take a while<br />
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Miles Russellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07581296676233050831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5120401471738916620.post-87847205148481452432016-05-13T23:32:00.000-07:002016-05-13T23:32:02.915-07:00Fiddling Nero<div style="text-align: justify;">
I confess that I've never really thought of UK Prime Minister David Cameron as Nero (more like Claudius if we're going to pick a Roman emperor entirely at random), </div>
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but Trevor Phillips, former head of the UK equality watchdog, apparently thinks otherwise. His comments, noted in the Telegraph (so quite how accurate this is is anyone's guess) appear to claim that, thanks to a "liberal self-delusion" over mass immigration, Britain risks racial and religious conflict, likening the political elite to "the Emperor Nero fiddling while Rome burned" unable (or unwilling) to comprehend the “dark side of the diverse society.” Now I'm not a politician (thank you for noticing) and have no wish to wade into any wider debate about the perceived state of society, however as an archaeologist who has spent (probably far too much) time examining the life, appreance, impact and general facial appearance of Rome's fifth emperor (right down to his ornate coiffure), I do feel able to make a few highly pedantic (and probably largely irrelevant) points in the interests of historical accuracy.</div>
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First off, let's just quickly bury the fact that Nero 'fiddled whilst Rome burned' (leaving the aside the rather awkward fact that the fiddle wasn't invented until a good millennium after his demise). </div>
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Although it's a great expression, alluding to the ineffectiveness of political leaders at a time of crisis (which is what I assume Trevor Phillips meant), one thing we can be sure of was that Nero was only too aware of the significance the Great fire that struck Rome in July AD 64. Trouble is, he appears to have enjoyed the drama of it all, allegedly singing a song on the destruction of Troy as the city burnt. Nero was also astutely aware of the need to get Rome working again after the fire, organising relief, supplying food and setting about the immediate plans for reconstruction. Unfortunately for him, having done all this, Nero lost control of the PR campaign, once it became clear that his was planning to build a large private palace and pleasure dome within an area of the city cleared by the fire.</div>
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A second, and perhaps rather more important point, is that despite all the invading, killing and enslaving committed by the Roman Empire (and there was rather a lot of this), Rome was, up until the time of Nero, famously tolerant of all faiths, allowing diverse cultures of all sorts to flourish. It was during the reign of Nero however, following the Great Fire, that the first active persecution of religious minorities began in the city, partly to divert attention away from Nero's own increasing unpopularity. </div>
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Now, whilst we have not (thankfully) descended to the mass burnings, crucifixions and animal related executions of the sort that Nero organised, it is true that there is today a worrying trend towards the demonisation of minority groups (as seen most shamefully in the recent London mayoral election campaign). In that respect, perhaps, the excesses of Nero's reign, not to say the fate that ultimately befell him, should serve as a warning. Toleration and cultural assimilation famously worked for Rome; active persecution did not.</div>
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Miles Russellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07581296676233050831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5120401471738916620.post-46095197670986072792016-05-05T00:35:00.000-07:002016-05-05T00:37:31.494-07:00The 'curse' of archaeology<div style="text-align: justify;">
Emerging bleary-eyed from 12 months hard labour in the academic equivalent of the subterranean mines of Pankot Palace, I hungrily grabbed at the nearest newspaper to find out what has changed in the archaeological world....</div>
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...very little as it seems.</div>
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In fact the lead archaeo-news story still seems to be about a long deceased Medieval monarch.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLaCC9HJuoRaA9iAdrBZSsIpHHbAaNlywO9YzX7Jjh5F5h4Og9stUZOktMahsC8fY4nEiB4QVXYqM8vC0jB9yslfaMxjsDYTujujwf7ktjUCSjUpmVwJH4TIyczchspH2jbxEBDt3TyNTq/s1600/arch8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLaCC9HJuoRaA9iAdrBZSsIpHHbAaNlywO9YzX7Jjh5F5h4Og9stUZOktMahsC8fY4nEiB4QVXYqM8vC0jB9yslfaMxjsDYTujujwf7ktjUCSjUpmVwJH4TIyczchspH2jbxEBDt3TyNTq/s320/arch8.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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It appears that this weekend, despite being officially dead for over half a millennium, King Richard III won two major sporting trophies.</div>
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In what CNN described as "the fairytale that has gripped the world", Leicester City (Football Club) has won the Premiership trophy. Now, as long term readers of this blog (both of you) will know, my love of football is not quite as great as my love of the Peruvian nose-flute. As a consequence, I find it hard to gauge whether or not this is a big story (although apparently it is a classic example of 'David beating Goliath' - or something). What strikes me as particularly bizarre, however, is the role played by the last Plantagenet king in all this. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNF73fxXIB8_XHK81ocSgg6u7O6AwLMNyRyd7ZJiqnzop10ZEsa_2vWtg7RSvWGGLFOFJI7NVNy1zNnUBf2snOCyolVxGM_Fosx8C5KMmRUwruAMoCrA97uM9IwhMuSzMvJpcwHlNq0oTa/s1600/arch5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNF73fxXIB8_XHK81ocSgg6u7O6AwLMNyRyd7ZJiqnzop10ZEsa_2vWtg7RSvWGGLFOFJI7NVNy1zNnUBf2snOCyolVxGM_Fosx8C5KMmRUwruAMoCrA97uM9IwhMuSzMvJpcwHlNq0oTa/s1600/arch5.jpg" /></a></div>
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BBC sport pundit Mike Bushell felt the need to provide his own possible explanation on Breakfast:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIdjkBDOhWwFq43iYwmR0PQcMPa2hyActHkJ3qHSf3lYcjsOGU5rKpSc9ridq9DdiAQWHaRasCLTqvEDHoHl4OrGHlh7w7i9wMOuLoCZdWt9uzgoNOdS2G0pLk53fXp3tlgJNkWyPFIQw6/s1600/arch1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIdjkBDOhWwFq43iYwmR0PQcMPa2hyActHkJ3qHSf3lYcjsOGU5rKpSc9ridq9DdiAQWHaRasCLTqvEDHoHl4OrGHlh7w7i9wMOuLoCZdWt9uzgoNOdS2G0pLk53fXp3tlgJNkWyPFIQw6/s320/arch1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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"what's behind this amazing transformation from relegation candidates to champions elect?" he pondered. "Is it the manager?; The previous manager?; The players and their togetherness?; The owners and their five year plan?; Or could it be written in history thanks to the influence of this chap, the former King Richard III whose re interment in Leicester came just before the upturn in the club's fortune?"</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMcIlN122mJL4_7F0yMIBgBD1aJRfqpcmpEA6sO1KIdJSdy0omtbWQZnvgD7Jeml1rX3VaT1zxsN7E5H_8Wg6JvEzp9ugRpOaKaEbLwkPk3zo_2rwZ4DQuhpTFPCTe3tqfoqaG2f-OZh_C/s1600/arch2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMcIlN122mJL4_7F0yMIBgBD1aJRfqpcmpEA6sO1KIdJSdy0omtbWQZnvgD7Jeml1rX3VaT1zxsN7E5H_8Wg6JvEzp9ugRpOaKaEbLwkPk3zo_2rwZ4DQuhpTFPCTe3tqfoqaG2f-OZh_C/s320/arch2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Well I'm not sure Mike but, considering that you're standing outside Leicester's very own King Richard Experience, I suspect you're leaning towards the latter theory.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1rbh2RYQV4kHC1TDEyRetdMb26P7QHi4Nje-Nd239Ip3S_rvkBBHGlvog8On4BgMNsJi1ngMC9sH-pQzvpvjo23Stdab5Fckrwi2IB5tmfqGz8JvYbObHHD_Q7CI_FvCa7HPMcmrzObvW/s1600/arch4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1rbh2RYQV4kHC1TDEyRetdMb26P7QHi4Nje-Nd239Ip3S_rvkBBHGlvog8On4BgMNsJi1ngMC9sH-pQzvpvjo23Stdab5Fckrwi2IB5tmfqGz8JvYbObHHD_Q7CI_FvCa7HPMcmrzObvW/s320/arch4.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Certainly a (not previously selected) group of Leicester City fans confirmed that in their opinion it wasn't the manager / team combo that won the trophy as "it's all down to the big famous King Richard"</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCOTkK_djq21cBe4kerk-koDn8FYDgPis-y4l_l3geC_nMn8iSIC-DxFfztPYU4WPwdxdbYP9cYV6IX5LdFyUr9bzX-CQD-kAHsCeFk2gOFEBvCP__aeHIKUNKs2JOguqRsECFEQHa7D0o/s1600/arch3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCOTkK_djq21cBe4kerk-koDn8FYDgPis-y4l_l3geC_nMn8iSIC-DxFfztPYU4WPwdxdbYP9cYV6IX5LdFyUr9bzX-CQD-kAHsCeFk2gOFEBvCP__aeHIKUNKs2JOguqRsECFEQHa7D0o/s320/arch3.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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So, there you go, it must be true.</div>
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Further confirmation, if it were needed, was provided by the Guardian, Mirror, Mail, Times and Telegraph papers in the UK whilst in the States CNN observed that just as Leicester City came top of the Premiership, York City, who lost out in the legal battle surrounding who had the right to bury Richard III, "was relegated from the lowest division of professional English football in 92nd, and last, place".</div>
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Coincidence?</div>
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Er.....hang on, don't tell me....I know this....erm</div>
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In a surprise, though (apparently) no less dramatic footnote, Leicester snooker player Mark Selby won the Snooker World Championship ON THE SAME DAY.....!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNL5zb3ql6GJqNID1mMt-Wli1m144rJrPT0INXppcazgELRXfABUt3zWYorAAxLG2LAxKpZ5Fk5WPqsxXT1rtkSlp8BJEjMtzC8Cv1rIkqEnbgTyNJa72N0Z-KBbeub024Q-HOsxWadPAz/s1600/arch9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNL5zb3ql6GJqNID1mMt-Wli1m144rJrPT0INXppcazgELRXfABUt3zWYorAAxLG2LAxKpZ5Fk5WPqsxXT1rtkSlp8BJEjMtzC8Cv1rIkqEnbgTyNJa72N0Z-KBbeub024Q-HOsxWadPAz/s320/arch9.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Unsurprisingly, just as with the Football title, Richard was duly thanked. Well quite, after all, who could not forget the rousing speeches, immortalised in the writing of Shakespeare, that Richard III gave in support of UK Sport, the games of snooker that came before the battle of Bosworth and the celebratory footie match that followed Henry Tudor's victory.<br />
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Well, me for one.<br />
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Nice though, to see archaeology at the forefront of world attention, albeit it a rather unusual way. Also intriguing to see that, just for once, the exhumation of a Royal body has not been met with the usual fanfare of curses, plagues and other ghastly goings-on. This is, of course, far from the default setting of archaeology. From Tutankhamun to Scooby Doo, Doctor Who to Lara Croft, the discovery of a Royal burial is almost always met with destruction, death and general unpleasantness on a large scale (especially for the excavators). This time it appears that the archaeological team have not unleashed a bandage-swathed curse upon the world, and for that, I am eternally grateful..</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3_7D5nqZkv9NhOcR034v5rabokruiXac0VUVaEHOvwcZEZKYLstRaNWHZriaPR8CD-je1YRQ1To-YTOAnYNXAK6u8GoVQjFo_8vUHHSchPnniS6aRellTHr8OYF5q-3BHKprzfCI-hBo3/s1600/arch10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3_7D5nqZkv9NhOcR034v5rabokruiXac0VUVaEHOvwcZEZKYLstRaNWHZriaPR8CD-je1YRQ1To-YTOAnYNXAK6u8GoVQjFo_8vUHHSchPnniS6aRellTHr8OYF5q-3BHKprzfCI-hBo3/s320/arch10.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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..as indeed, I suspect, are the good people of Leicester.</div>
Miles Russellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07581296676233050831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5120401471738916620.post-30886887867577884352016-05-03T13:40:00.001-07:002016-05-03T21:58:54.923-07:00Waking up(With apologies to Douglas Adams)<br />
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Arthur: "Who are you?"<br />
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Lintilla: "Archaeologist"<br />
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Arthur: "What?"<br />
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Lintilla: "Shhhhhh"<br />
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Arthur: "Archaeologist?"<br />
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Lintilla: "Yes"<br />
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Arthur: "What are you doing?"<br />
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Lintilla: "Digging, researching, trying to stay alive"<br />
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Arthur: "What, with that lot around?"<br />
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Lintilla: "Most particularly because that lot are around"<br />
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So, we are finally awake....now, what's been happening?<br />
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Miles Russellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07581296676233050831noreply@blogger.com2