Tag Archives: Archaeology
In the company of twitchers
Solitary men. Mostly. Some in camouflage clothing. Cameras with long lenses. Tripods slung over shoulders. Patient people. Often, it seems to me, not quite sad, but resigned. And a closeness amid the isolation. A willingness to share as they seek … Continue reading
Death, burial – and untimely resurrection
The dead were fast becoming the underlying (sorry) theme of our trip to Uppsala. First it was ancient DNA. Then, as day two dawned – actually, it was long after dawn – it was the turn of Viking burials. Replete … Continue reading
If you would like to see a few more pictures and a video you have to turn sideways to watch, oops! 😉 of the small press I visited and wrote about in Dylan, dogs and the devil it is now … Continue reading
The eye of the beholder. An experiment (do try this at home)
A bottle cap from a beer bottle. A clear plastic tray from an over-packaged quartet of peaches. A silver coin. The box is gradually filling with objets – not d’art, just objets. A disposable cigarette lighter, its liquid fuel visible … Continue reading
An un-diplomatic incident, a dead motor & a perilously pregnant woman
The men who go for water don’t make it back till after dark. My ‘kitchen’ – the back of their vehicle – is covered in bits of charcoal and running with water. But never mind. I rustle up another macaroni … Continue reading
In which bravery is rewarded with a carrot, but not a pear
It rained in the night. What is it about us? This is August, the southern hemisphere’s winter, the dry season. It seems wherever we venture in the Northern Province we act as rain-bringers. Last time it was at a rock … Continue reading
On soap, water and being worth it
We’re bumping along a track through scrubby woodland in a because-we-need-it four-by-four. It’s the end of a dehydrating day spent working in a haze of heat and orange dust. Digging, sieving, scraping. Tstetse flies biting through clothing, sweat bees dipping … Continue reading
MEMOIRS OF A HUSK 