It’s Monday and we hear dire reports of forthcoming bad weather and the like. We soldier on undaunted, however, fortified only by cake and tea. Dave B is feeling slightly overcaked but rallies to manage a couple of slices of the rather splendid apple cake provided by Karen from Time Team. After all, reasoned Dr Bescoby, the apple content of said cake must constitute one of the recommended five daily portions of fruit, so to refuse would be doing his body a disservice.
In trench 2 (the one with the road) we start removing the second layer of the road and it has to be said that those Romans/Iceni/individuals engaged in constructing complex discrepant identities had the road building thing pretty much down to a fine art. Picks and mattocks fair bounce off the road surface, while chips of gravel fly off in all directions. Safety goggles WERE offered at this point and thus any subsequent eye damage resulting from flying bits of Roman road is absolutely the responsibility of the individuals involved and in no way the fault of the Caistor Project.
There is a lot of complex archaeology emerging in trench 2, which increases the anxiety of Karen and Susanna who see the Iron Age evaporating like Brigadoon in the sunshine. It’s a world of pits that are descending into the earth, with not a hint of natural in sight. They console themselves by going off to film Chris Skinner’s horse, as Ofcom regulations require that any television mention of the Iceni is accompanied by some footage of a galloping steed.
Trench 1, by contrast, is proceeding smoothly as a model of an excavation proceeding smoothly towards its goal of natural sand and gravel, despite its early faux pas of producing a Roman, rather than Iron Age, post-built structure. Martin C. produces a sherd of what he confidently proclaims to be pornographic Samian, although the figure in question seems to be a rather androgynous Hercules whose nether regions are modelled in the ambiguous style familiar to anyone who ever owned an Action Man.
Thankfully our rescue parcel of Roman product arrives, courtesy of the nice Mandy at Westair (purveyors of historically themed souvenirs to the gentry) and thus the good citizens of Norfolk will no longer be deprived of the right to own a Veni Vidi Vici pencil.
Apologies for the picture free post, but this is uploaded from site via the miracle of a broadband(ish) dongle, which might expire with pictures. By way of compensation, we’ll try and add some video tomorrow.