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Camping was always fine if you got into the spirit of things (and there was a shower and pub), people always seemed to develop new skills to improve life and on longer jobs the camp site always seemed to evolve and take on a life of its own. Building drystone-walled flowerbeds around one's tent always added a bit of colour (and lettuces!) and kept the hurricanes from getting under the flysheet and demolishing the thing in the middle of the night - and apparently the sheep at Stanwick villa used to use them as an island refuge when the campsite flooded during the winter :face-approve:
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Any moment now someone is going to bring on the story of everyone coming back from some olden days dig with the same variety of venereal disease.
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I can't wait to hear that one . . .
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Well of course everyone knows that xxxxx was a xxxxxxx who would xxxxx anyone who had a xxxx but then I blame xxxx for xxxx his xxxxxxx with xxxxxxx before tea break. If only he had not xxxxx in the mug with xxxxx then perhaps half the team would not have got xxxxxxxxx but I'll tell you, it did me no harm... apart from the blindness and weeping sores! And we slept under the site tarpaulin!
eeee.. these were the days
I expect Dino will censor this anyway
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I was actually going to add that I've heard from 2 people who were there that they were able to do a matrix of who'd caught what off who, and the one person not on it was either embarrased or thinking 'Phew!'. Eee, that was back in the days when digging was still fun :face-approve:
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....you don't get the same quality of stuffed crocodile stories coming from sites these days either (am not referring to Maiden Castle stuffed cayman, more the 20' salt water one and the bus....you know who you were/are), and we never found out what happened to the fibreglass hippopotammi in Bridlington...anyone out there who was at that party behind the concrete cows in Milton Keynes in 1979, the one where the pub landlord did a runner with the takings?
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...and while I've got the stage, the one about me, the axe and stereo wasn't true (entirely), wierd how these tales start.....and surprising how long they continue to circulate whilst gathering fluff :face-crying:
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Ah... the party where it became open door, as someone had actually unscrewed the door.. never did find it.
or.. when we burnt down the cottage.. ha... that was...er.. silly.
japery! where's the harm as Dino says. and the one about me, the turkman knife and the dancing archaeologist... may be true.
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15th June 2012, 08:29 PM
(This post was last modified: 16th June 2012, 06:20 AM by Wax.)
Ah the follies of youth, I shudder at some of the things I did fueled by shear stupidity, all in my pre archaeology days. Hanging out with a bunch of engineers and science types made for some very inventive letting off of steam. Archaeologists tend to go for the momment, engineers plan for major effect
Came to archaeology late in life when the stamina had gone so pass out before things get interesting and miss all the fun. There are the classic tales and I know I was there but b..... if I can remember.:face-crying:
Did drive the works van to casualty once with a life size plastic skeleton in the front seat wearing the security guards hat. Dropping off a genuuine casualty
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Quote:Last edited by Wax; Today at 06:20 AM. Reason: Being sensible
Probably a good idea...
