Felicita

The view from my window looks out to the east and the hills surrounding Sheffield. Near one of the peaks there are two enormous trees that have fascinated me ever since I moved here. I made it a goal to walk up there and see if they were really as big as they appeared from here, or if it was some sort of optical illusion. Now that I’m in the process of moving across town, I figured I’d better make good on visiting them.

The first part was to figure out where they were and how to get there. I got on to Google satellite maps and followed the road I could see going up the hill (Rutland Road, it turns out) and then looked for trees that cast an unusually long shadow. I got a pretty good idea of where they might be, and because they appeared to be in a tangled residential neighbourhood, I realised that I might not be able to walk right up to them. Good enough.

Friday was supposed to be the first decent day after a week of rain, and I wasn’t disappointed. The grey, wet weather broke and it was a bright, warm morning, so I set off to the east past the giant Tesco. Terra incognita commenced as soon as I crossed Infirmary Road. I’d lost sight of the trees soon after I set out, but knew the direction I needed to go in to get there. Negotiating scribbled directions based on a satellite image isn’t as exact as I’d like, but this was supposed to be a day out and somewhat of an adventure.

The area is industrial and looks more like the US than anything I’ve seen in Britain before. It’s not a very pedestrian friendly area, and filled with warehouses and construction suppliers. 

I crossed the River Don. It doesn’t look too bad here, but still needs some cleaning and maintenance. Beyond the river was an old tunnel. I have no problem with tunnels, caves, mines or anything like that, but there was something creepy about the place. I could feel the hair rising on the back of my neck and wanted to look behind me. It was an odd sensation and unusual for me to feel that way.

The walk was uphill, but not as steep as it appeared to be from my window. Turning around I could see all of Sheffield in the valley below. Everything looked so much farther away and it was odd to think that I was standing in the landscape that I look at every day from my room. I could see my block of flats and had the odd sensation that I could be looking back at myself. I’ve spent a lot of time staring out that window for the several months that I’ve been here.

Before I reached the street I was aiming for I saw a strange statue and a sign for a public footpath off to the left. It was going in generally the direction I wanted to go, so I figured it was worth wandering around. The statue is odd, and must relate to Sheffield’s steel industry. There’s a small Asian looking child wearing huge welder’s gloves and heavy shoes perched on the back of a bulgy eyed eagle, all done in a bright rust colour.

The path led on into a meadow, and then there was a track across that leading off of the path into some trees. So, I left the path and stuck out across the field. There were gorse shrubs and a stand of wild lupines. I looked for older seed pods and found a couple that looked like they were old enough. With luck they’ll dry out and I’ll be able to plant them in the garden here.

The track continued on into a forest and joined on to the path again. I could see from the view in my flat that the top of the hills were all covered in trees, but had assumed that it was just residential area. No, it’s a forest that just happens to be at the end of an industrial zone. I shouldn’t be surprised at anything in Sheffield any more. I wandered around admiring woodland plants and wondering how I could spot two particularly tall trees under dense cover. I figured that the two trees are just a lure just to get people like me up there in order to discover a whole forest. I crossed a little brook and chatted with a man with a couple of very happy black labs. Eventually the path led into a large grassy clearing where people were running their dogs. The whole thing was an acre or two. At the other side I could see the electrical tower that I could also see from my window. From my room it seemed to be miles away, but I’d walked there in less than an hour and not in any particular hurry. One path led to the street, where I found a sign that said I was in Parkwood Springs Open Space. Turning back into the forest, I noticed that some houses that faced the road had little paths leading from their back gardens. When I looked through the gaps between houses I finally got a glimpse of the trees I was looking for. I went back to the clearing and back to the road. Walking along I could see the trees towering over the houses. It was all the more impressive realising that they were on the other side of the crest of the ridge from where I first saw them. They didn’t look as large as I thought they’d be, and they were in a back garden, so I couldn’t get very close, but I was still struck by their size considering I was still a block and a half away from them.

Curiosity satisfied, I headed back for my flat. From the signs I figured out I was in Shirecliff. The view from the top of the hills is amazing. I could see my neighbourhood, St George’s and beyond to the hills where the Peaks District starts. The hospital blocked the view of the hill where I’d be living next.

Going downhill the trip back seemed much shorter. Despite my moving to the west side of town, I’ll make it a point to come back here sometime. The place is probably stunning in autumn and would be beautiful in the snow (if that ever happens again…)

This year I am co-presenting a program on technology in archaeological conservation at the American Institute for the Conservation of Historic and Artistic Works.

Day 0

Right now I am sitting on the balcony of a very posh hotel room enjoying the warm dry heat of LA. The trip to LA was a little more eventful, or maybe just longer than I planned. The train to Manchester was delayed and we had to change trains just before we got to the airport. There was something about some tracks at the airport not being in use. Knowing the British rail system, I’d allowed enough extra time to get there, so it wasn’t a major concern. Then when I got in line for the boarding pass I found out that the plane was delayed by two hours. It wasn’t just ours, it was all international flights. I did see that some white men in business suits were being taken aside and frisked. I appreciated the fact that it wasn’t the usual ethnic minorities that were being searched, but wondered what all the delays were about. On the other hand, I was bummed that I didn’t really have to get up at 5 am after three hours of sleep... I sent out some frantic emails and texts to try and let Gretchen know that I would be delayed.

The plane finally took off at 2pm. The flight went to Newark where I had a new connecting flight to LA. As surprised that Continental gave us real metal flatware to eat with. It made me wonder about the whole security thing. On the other hand, I appreciated being able to eat with utensils that didn’t break. They also have the small video screens in the back of the seats. But unlike Northwest (who provides control paddles) these are touch screens, meaning that we’re all thumping each other on the back when we play video games or want to change programs. One cool thing is that they include the sun’s position on the map of the plane’ progress so we could see the plane trying to keep up with the sun as we moved along.

I stumbled off the plane at 4:30 and breezed through customs. I’d worried about having to answer a lot of questions, but no one seemed to worry too much about me or my status. In Manchester I got to keep my shoes on, but not in Newark. I was also patted down because my clothes looked bulky. That’s what I get for wearing my classy university hoodie... or for being so sedentary lately...

I made it on to the connecting flight and then we waited until about 7:30 to take off. I’ve never had a trip with so many delays. It was another five hours to LA, so while in the apparent world I travelled from 6 am to 10:30 pm, in reality I was on the road for about 24 hours.

Gretchen got the email I sent from Manchester and met me at the baggage claim. We took a shuttle to the Hyatt Century Plaza where the conference was being held. The place was much more posh than we expected. After so many meals of greasy plane food, I needed a beer, so we wandered into the hotel bar where the place had blinking coloured lighting and the lampshades were made out of fine wire and what appeared to be silkworm cocoons. When we got to the room, I made it to bed and was aware only of the fact that I had the most comfortable and wonderful pillows in the world.

Day 1

I met our other roommate, Helen Ingalls who is with the Smithsonian. The three of us went down to the coffee shop and had some breakfast before picking up our registration packets. I’m new here and so am being introduced to everyone all at once. Thank goodness we all have nametags. Afterwards we went to a little mall across the street where there we found a grocery store and a bakery. The hotel provided us with a refrigerator and coffee maker, so we’re pretty well set to survive here without having to spend $20 for breakfasts. Meanwhile I’m still getting myself re-oriented to using US dollars and change. Just about all US money looks the same to me now and compared to pounds and Euros, it’s hard to sort out. I now understand others’ confusion when dealing with US money. Sales tax is another thing that takes getting used to again. While I still haven’t completely figured out VAT (and reverse VAT) in Britain, it’s easier to cope with than the US system, and California’s sales tax is particularly alarming.

After a couple shopping trips and more introductions I went to the first program. We were supposed to construct an eddy current analyser, but unfortunately the speaker who was bringing the equipment had emergency surgery, and so we had a program on how to build one and what they are capable of. The whole thing costs less than $100 to build, but is capable of being used as a substitute for a low level XRF, as well as provide images of subsurface features. The thing is amazingly simple to build and just about everything I need can be bought from Radio Shack. I wire it with a usb plug and it runs off of my laptop. I just need to borrow an oscilloscope to calibrate it. I’ll also be getting a cd-rom of the software they developed for the system. The images they produced with the eddy current analyser were impressive. Subsurface images were translated into bitmap images, so we could see the surface of a coin underneath corrosion. In one sample they scratched the surface of a 1 mm sheet of metal, flipped it over and scanned the metal with the analyser. It could read the scratches from the unscratched side. With some simple adjustments it can read further into the metal or in finer detail. In analysing metals, once it’s calibrated by reading metal standards it can be used like an XRF, giving a reading for alloy content. I am a little bummed that I didn’t get o make one, but on the other hand, I don’t have to explain any homemade electronic devices in my luggage to customs officers.

After hanging out in the room for awhile, we went down to a reception with wine and snacks. The place is expensive, but we are being well fed. Some of the workshops are even catered. I met more people and can’t even try to keep up with everyone. By 9 pm I was ready to pack it in. Tomorrow things will be busier.
More to follow and I promise to add photos

The Yorkshire Archaeology Postgraduate Group puts on an annual conference for postgraduate students in which only students attend. It’s a friendly, no pressure situation where students can do presentations for their dissertation or prepare for professional conferences. Earlier this year I signed on to be part of the Sheffield committee. There are only three universities involved: Sheffield, York and Bradford with each university hosting the conference in turn.

So bright and far too early I headed down to the station and boarded a rain for York. I realized how odd it was that these days I am as casual about taking a train to York as I would be driving up to Duluth. And that both cities are considered fairly exotic by the other.

York’s archaeology department is in the King’s Manor, a beautiful building to rival Durham’s department.

We met in a reception room where the tea kettles blew most of the breakers and caused a fuse crisis. So I suppose there is something to be said for a department housed in a slightly more modern building…

After some socializing (with hot tea water brought in from the kitchens) we went to the first round of papers. The theme for these was Social Identity in the Archaeological Record. There were enough presentations that the day was divided into two tracks. We made our way across the courtyard to the building where Toby Martin (Sheffield) presented a program on Anglo Saxon Cruciform Brooches.  He is studying that particular form of jewellery to understand complex social structure and the pagan identity of women in the 5^th and 6^th centuries.

Next up was Timothy Webb of Bradford who was also studying jewellery forms as a means of understanding cultures. In this case he was looking at personal ornaments during the Roman Period in the north of England between the Humber and Hadrian’s Wall and looking at differences/similarities between Roman vs. native, urban vs. rural and north vs. south.

The final paper of the morning was Ollie Jones of York who is working on the archaeology of the Elizabethan stage and the development of early modern theatre. The excavation of the RoseTheatre and another in Shoreditch has focussed attention on theatres, but the plague of London meant that people weren’t exactly thrilled about going into large crowded buildings for entertainment. Many troupes went on the road and performed in all sorts of buildings that still exist, guild halls, common halls and great halls. This meant that there was far less separation between the actors and the audience and that plays could have been far more improvisational, and had to be adapted to wherever they were performed. Outside of hanging around with Colin Fesser, I don’t see many historical people, so this was a whole new area for me.

After this session we returned to the main hall for more tea and cakes and to have a chance to talk. I realized that because I’m one of the few archaeometric people, I’m usually in the metals lab and rarely get over to the West Court building (except to check my mail) and see what the historical and general archaeology people are up to. It’s one of those things where we travel to another city to meet people who are working around the corner.

Next up was a round of presentations on bioarchaeology. Jo Powell of York gave a paper on amino acid racimisation (AAR) and its use in both as markers for ancient DNA preservation and determining temperature change in paleo-environments. I admit this one made my head swim, but her work has some fascinating implications.

The next presentation was by Benjamin Manktelow from Sheffield. His presentation was on archaeology and the disunity of science and suggests that rather than try to unite all the differing processual/post processual/positivist/etc. approaches, the discipline should be decentralized. He believes that a bottom up approach would make archaeology critical and self reflexive. His model is based on traditional trading zones where decentralization keeps all the aspects of the discipline interconnected.

It was after this that I realized that the Sheffield students all had significantly more theory integrated into their projects than the other schools.

After the last presentation we broke for lunch. I decided that if I was going to drink wine with dinner, I needed more cash. And so I ran off to look for a cash point/ATM. Now that I was outside the building, I could see I was in the student quarter. I could tell because very other business seemed to be a lettings agency for student housing. I hardly recognized York because there weren’t any tourists. It didn’t look the same without mobs of people. A weekday in March is definitely a good time to visit. Unfortunately my search for a cash machine landed me in the city centre and my disillusion returned. It seems as if it’s crammed with even more US chain shops and restaurants and looks sadly like a US imitation of a British city sponsored by Subway and Starbucks. I got a sandwich at a distinctly non-chain shop and raced back, only occasionally waylaid by book shops.

We had a few minutes to sort ourselves out and get to the next track. Jenna Higgins (another Sheffielder) is working on the influence of agriculture and megalithic monuments in the Atlantic Façade. It’s a huge and ambitious project exploring available labour force, subsistence and mobilization while comparing sites in Ireland, Sweden and Brittany.

Matthias Heckmann from York (by way of Germany) presented on erosion phases in Tanzania and how human alteration of the land has caused changing environmental conditions. I was especially interested in what he had to say about iron working and the resulting deforestation. I caught up with him later and we had a nice talk about work that had been done in Bronze and Iron Age contexts about smelting and charcoal production.

The next presentation was completely different. Manjree Khajanchi (Bradford) did anthropological work with the Jain sects in India. The Jain ascetics renounce all worldly possessions and are allowed to keep only fourteen objects, all of which are related to personal survival. They live outdoors for most of the year, but during the monsoon season they live in halls or apartments where they lecture. In previous times the kings and elites were Jains and renounced wealth, now it is the poorer classes. This has some interesting implications for archaeology. Burials with no possessions are considered to be poor or low class, yet the ascetics are lecturers and honoured people. How do we see people with no material culture in the archaeological record?

We had another break and then moved on to three presentations on a single track so we could all attend.

Lorraine White of Sheffield started off with the microbiology of death. This was absolutely not for the squeamish. Her dissertation investigates how microbes destroy bone post mortem. For her research she has several pigs rotting away on a little allotment out of the way. Some of the pigs are buried and others left on the surface. She’s almost done with her dissertation and the work looks very good. It could give us a lot more information about how deterioration occurs. Despite the gruesome visuals, her presentation was very entertaining. It would be interesting if she gave a Tuesday lunchtime lecture.

Then Anne Brundle from Orkney gave a presentation. She’s the curator of the museum there and is doing her PhD at York. She spoke about 6^th Century Orkney when there was a break in the material culture. Hundreds of artefacts were excavated that were sorted into pointy things (pins and such), toothy things (combs, which for some reason became a popular item then), other things, and big other things. Anne is a wonderful speaker and she talked about how interpretations affect how we view an artefact and the maddening habit of believing that a set of objects must always be interpreted homogeneously. A short bone with a hole in it could be a bobbin, but when someone suggested that they were instead a children’s toy, they were all then classified as toys. They couldn’t be both and the collection couldn’t be separated into different categories. She ended with an appeal for archaeologists to keep better records for objects, contexts and samples.

The final presentation was from Sue Archer (York) on patterns of variation in medieval livestock. She looked at variation of size through time and geography. It was generally assumed that after domestication livestock was bred to be larger, but she found that this was not always the case, with trends that involved both decreases and increases in size during different periods.

After the presentations there was a wine reception where we all had a chance to get together again. Most of the Sheffield students had to return early, but I had opted to have dinner at Zizzi’s with the rest of the conference goers.

The restaurant was a very good choice. The menu had been emailed to us earlier, so we’d made our orders in advance. A few of us decided that wine by the glass was not a good decision and ordered a bottle together. I got to talk with Matthias about deforestation and metallurgy and also to Rose Drew, a Floridian who is currently at York. Rose does osteology and we had a great time talking about bone collections, the effect of TB on joints and the physiological effects of long term exposure to arsenic. The latter a subject that is oddly near and dear to me.

It seemed far too early when we all started to wander off. I had a train to catch, but still had plenty of time. I wandered back to the train station. In an hour and a half I was back home after a fun and interesting day.

Next year the conference will be held at Bradford. I am planning on doing a presentation there since the following year I’ll be busy helping organize Sheffield host the event.

The presentations that I didn’t get a chance to attend were Victoria Mueller (Bradford) on climate change and plague in 14^th Century London, Charlie Newman (York) on West Yorkshire workhouses in the Poor Law Era, Julia Beaumont (Bradford) Irish names in 19^th Century London cemeteries, Ali Bestwick (Sheffield) Enviromnetal changes in the British Lateglacial, Stella-Anne Jackson (York) on heritage reform and cultural experience, Amy Dapling (Bradford) Infanticide in Medieval Britain, and Erica Kempf (York) on patterns of water use in primates.

Last Wednesday saw us up early and on the road for our first major field trip. Caroline had the university mini-van, and so the vitreous materials class piled in and we headed down the motorway to Hampshire. Along the way I heard the news about Obama winning the election. It seemed somehow surreal to be driving down the British countryside and reading about the US election results in a newspaper I bought at a truck stop.

The destination was a village (Quarley) outside of a small town (Andover) in Hampshire where Mark Taylor and David Hill set up a glassworks. This wasn’t any ordinary glassworks, they make replica Roman glassware. We’d already seen a video they produced about how they built Roman style glass furnaces and used them to blow glass using materials from antiquity.

The studio is in a beautiful renovated farm building. The layout with the surrounding gardens looked like a Roman villa. Inside the studio they have modern furnaces and an annealing oven plus some other experimental furnaces that they are using to try and duplicate Egyptian glassmaking techniques. Outside they took us to the now dissolving Roman glass furnaces. They’d built two furnaces and an annealing chamber. When they were active, the furnaces had to run twenty-four hours a day. That was how things were in antiquity. You couldn’t just fire it up as you would for pottery, everything must be maintained and a steady supply of fuel at hand. In the time they had the furnace running, they ran through a barn-load of wood. Now the disused furnaces were crumbling into the ground. During the time they were in use, Mark and David made detailed archaeological drawings of the site, noting where bits of glass and charcoal fell, the outlines of features and where people tended to walk. This was much easier than the usual archaeological drawings since everything was still right there. Now nettles are growing around the furnaces where before the grass was scorched away. We were told that it took a couple years for the plants to return. They did measure the temperature of the ground and recorded hot it got and how far the heat dispersed.

Then we went inside for a demonstration of glassblowing, while potatoes were put into the annealing oven to bake. It looks so easy. First Mark blew out some strands of glass and showed us how flexible it was (remarkably so, Tom almost got it into a granny knot before it broke). Then he blew out some glass so that the sheet was as fine as cellophane, and it was also flexible. He twisted molten glass and demonstrated several techniques including blowing pieces into moulds and spinning glass into flat circular sheets for window glass. The moulds they use are replicas of pieces found in museums and are hand carved by David. In fact many of their pieces are in museums. And in films… they made the glass for Gladiator and Kingdom of Heaven.

After our lunch of cheese covered potatoes we had a hand at blowing glass ourselves. I’d done lamp-work before and had blown small objects such as wine glasses and cute little animals, but I wasn’t prepared for the scale that this required. Tom was brave and went first. When it got to be my turn, I didn’t burn myself, but I had to take care not to knock my front teeth out with the steel pipe. As it was, I couldn’t see what was happening at the end of the blowpipe and had to trust others that I was producing anything at all. It takes the breath control of a horn player to get the glass moving while keeping a balance between having it too hot and drippy or too cold and hard.

We blew glass, shaped it with tongs and worked our way through the repertoire needed to produce a tumbler. I was hoping for a vase, but in the end we all accomplished making our own very modernistic shot glasses. My flowers will have to continue on with their brown ale bottle…

In addition to selling to museums and Ridley Scott, they also sell their glassware at various events and have a small shop in their studio. I was already deciding which pieces to buy for various relatives. I mean, how often do I come across the chance to buy replica Roman glassware for modern Italians?

I asked about a little round cup in yellow glass with an inscription I couldn’t quite make out. David told me there was a very good story that went with it. The official description is that it’s a sphereical cup with vegetal decoration. But since the inscription read ΕΥΦΡΑΙΝΟΥΕΦΟΠΑΡΕΙ (Rejoice in that at which you are present), some scholars equate that with the Biblical quotation from Matthew XXVI 50, and so associate the cup with being identified with the Holy Grail. The original design is from the First Century and was actually a popular Roman toast. Personally, I considered the sentiment as being almost Zen-like and thought the cup was absolutely beautiful.

The work that Mark and David do is amazing. I wished I had a larger budget so I could have bought more gifts there. As it is, I hope to go back sometime. They do regular glassblowing classes, and since they are just seven miles down the road from Stonehenge, it would be a very fun vacation.

Check out their website www.romanglassmakers.co.uk They do mail order in case you need a Holy Grail, or an oil bottle of your own.

It was a long ride back and along the way we saw bonfire night fireworks in the distance. I had been a little disappointed that I missed the department’s bonfire night party, but I should be able to make next year’s. We finally made it back to Sheffield just before midnight. Our shot glasses were in the annealing oven and if they survive, they’ll be sent to us. Meanwhile I have my own little Holy Grail sitting next to my computer, along with a nice bottle of Chianti.

My Copper Complex Wordle...

	
www.wordle.net/gallery/wrdl/286767/Old_Copper_Complex

I regularly come in on Tuesdays and wash the bones from Stonehenge. The lab is usually quiet with people chatting occasionally, but mostly the few of us there are wrapped up in our work. For me it’s a time of meditation. Washing the small fragments of bones, I wonder about whose they were and how fragile life is. Sometimes we talk about a skeleton whose joints are degenerated and painful to look at, or the skeleton of a small child who never got old enough to walk. There is the stereotype of scientists as being cold and uncaring, but it’s not a fair judgement. We think about the parents of the child who died so young, or how painful life must have been for others who were so old. The bones are handled with respect and all the care we would show our ancestors. In a way we are re-enacting our own modern version of ancient rituals. In the distant past some burials were reopened and the flesh carefully removed from the bones and were then coated with red ochre (which when mixed with water disturbingly resembles fresh blood). Afterwards the bones were reburied. I carefully wash the fragments of bone, hardened by fire but still so fragile, rubbing them gently with my fingers to loosen the mud.

I think about Buddhist monks who watch the exposed bodies of their masters decompose, slowly returning to the fields upon which they were laid. They also meditate on life and death, the temporary nature of the physical body, and to view the world with a detached nature.

As I wash the bones, I think about how so many things of the ancient past are now an intimate part of my present and future. I am living in an extraordinary mash-up of time. In the building where I wash these five-thousand year old bones, there is also state of the art equipment. My future is tied to ancient artefacts and modern technology. Trying to imagine the distance in time creates a wild mental pendulum that slows to its central point of now.  All time is now and I am just quietly washing the mud off of bits of bone.

~~All Soul's Day 2008

It doesn’t seem as if a month has passed since I’ve been here. So much has been going on I’ve hardly had time to stop. But from the moment I arrived I felt at home in Sheffield. The weather was unpredictable today, but it looked nice enough, so I decided that rather than stay in all day and study, I would go off and explore more of the city. I’d intended to be gone for a couple hours, but instead it turned into a long day.
Colin had mentioned that he’d seen an Italian grocery store on Ecclesall Road and I wanted to check it out. I’d been out that way on the bus, but never on foot and the neighbourhood looked very cool. On the map it seemed like a fair distance, but then I frequently misjudge distances on UK maps. I still keep thinking that everything is as spread out as it is in the US.

So, I grabbed my Dad’s old hat (just in case of rain) and set off down Hanover road, and after a couple wrong turns I found Ecclesall Road. The thing that the map doesn’t show is that there are short pedestrian tunnels under the main roundabout. I’d been down that way before, but wasn’t sure which one to head out of. The result was that I learned a little more about yet another neighbourhood.

Ecclesall Road forms a sort of southern border for the university campus and it’s the area where most of the students live and a lot of the classes are held. It’s actually a suburb built for the university and the arboretum (another item on my list of places to visit). As a result, Ecclesall Road is a haven for trendy shops and interesting restaurants. The first place that attracted me was a Sheffield cutlery shop. It had beautiful knives, silverware, trowels and even books on Sheffield history. I gave in to temptation and bought myself a nice little folding knife with a bottle opener as well as a couple Christmas gifts. The knife is wicked sharp and has the manufacturer’s mark (St. Cuthbert’s Cross and a star in a shield) stamped on it. The company was founded in 1682. I found some natural food grocery stores, all sorts of gift shops and another Oxfam shop (this time with imported goods).  And wine shops.

I had been buying wine at grocery stores and as often as not, disappointed. Here I found a good wine shop with fairly reasonable prices. Their Italian selection was a little shy, but maybe if I keep showing up it will improve. Now I’m beginning to consider getting a wine rack for my room…

I also bought myself a canvas carry bag for wine. Only £1.50 and all of recycled materials.

I finally found the grocery shop. It was around the corner from their restaurant (Nonna's). It was small but had wonderful things. The grandson of the owner offered me samples of wine, cheeses and salami. He was from Puglia, in the south and was here studying economics and business. We talked for awhile about Italy and the things the store stocked. They definitely will have zampone for Christmas. I will see who among my friends will be adventurous enough to try it. I know Colin would have no qualms…

I bought polenta, gnocchi, salame and olive oil pressed from the family’s orchards.

Afterwards I bundled up my purchases and went around the corner to the restaurant. I had figured that if it rained I would hole up in a pub and have a pint and a British lunch while waiting it out. Instead I was in an Italian family restaurant eating a prosciuto sandwich made on fresh focaccia, followed by a very good espresso.

The first time I arrived in Sheffield it was by accident. I’d got off the train at Leeds and went in the wrong direction. It was a rainy day (much worse than this) and spent the entire day in the Forum drinking coffee and using their wireless. Even then I felt very comfortable and welcome. At the time I had no idea that in another year I’d be living a few blocks away.

The drizzly rain was less when I left and so I headed towards home again.

Along the way I’d seen some floral shops and one with a jasmine plant outside. The plant was pretty large and looked as if it would be happier in someone’s yard than in my window, so I went in to ask if they had any smaller ones. The woman explained that it was an English jasmine and that it had no scent. I thought it was odd having an unscented jasmine, but she said that they might get the regular ones in closer to Christmas.

After I left the shop the rain picked up a little more, so I stopped in at the Pomona (near the arboretum shops and pubs tend to have botanical names). They were out of sambuca, so I opted for a Baileys. It’s a good drink for a drizzly afternoon.

Now that I knew the way, the trip home was much shorter. I still hadn’t found a plant for my room, or bought fresh flowers, so along the way I cut a sprig of willow and another of sycamore. I also need to buy myself a bud vase, but for now a brown ale bottle will do nicely.

It gets dark at 6 pm now.

When I think of a close, I think of those narrow dark dead end alleys in Edinburgh, but actually it’s just really a term for a dead end street or a cul-de-sac. My close is much more of the cul-de-sac variety.

So here is a tour of my building…

Like most new buildings in England there is a lot of security. Everything works from a little plastic fob that I have on my key ring that I wave over little black plastic boxes that are mounted on walls. My building is a section of a large square with a garden in the centre. To get in I pass my fob over the magic box and the front gate will eventually start moving. It’s shiny steel decorated with oxidized steel to make it look rusty. The building opened last march, but the gate acts as if it’s considerably older. If anything it reminds me of Marvin the Android from Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. You wait as it decides whether or not it wants to open and then eventually it creaks into action. Slow action. People wait anxiously on either side, waiting for the gate to open wide enough to slip through. If it’s already open and begins to close and then someone slips through, it stops, waits and then sighs and opens up all the way again. I get the feeling that like Marvin, our gate believed he was destined for better things, but then was relegated to the indignity of being the gate to a block of student flats. He has abandoned all hope.

Once inside there’s a brief wind tunnel and then we’re in the gardens. Not only do we have a hesitant gate to protect us, but we also have decorative Gallic walls. Yes just as Professor Wells described them: transverse wooden rails filled with rubble. Soon they will be covered in clematis, woodbine and ivy. Here at Brightmore House we are safe from Roman incursions. We also have nice gardens filled with Spanish and English lavenders, Echinacea, azaleas and more.

The outer door to the building is the opposite of Marvin. I pass my fob over the box and it leaps open. The only thing missing is a cheerful “Glad to be of service”. For all I know, Sheffield could be the future home of Sirius Cybernetics. They do have a strong robotics department here.

This is the A building of Brightmore House (AKA Opal 2). I’d thought that flat 22 would be on the second floor, but no, things aren’t numbered that way (I should have known that from the things I learned about house numbering in the UK). Instead I’m on the fourth floor. I rarely walk up the stairs because the entrance level is actually -1, so technically I’m on the sixth floor. I really don’t mind that, given the flooding of recent years. 

And so here’s my room. It’s a nice, neat room and larger than I expected. It looks as if it was furnished by Ikea. It has nice, ample desk space, but not much in the way of drawer space. The notice board was a welcome thing, since I thought I'd have to buy one. One of the first things I did (after the internet hook-up) was to fill the notice board. It would shame a replicant…

Unlike most US dorms, I have a private bath. It’s a more typical European type with no separation between the shower and the rest of the room. My only complaint is the lack of a medicine cabinet.

I have a great view from my window. It looks out on the hills to the east. There are two trees that intrigue me and one of these days I’ll have to figure out how to go see them up close. At first glance I thought they were church spires, but when I got a better look, I realized they were two enormous trees that dwarf everything around them. They are narrow and upright, so I wonder if they are birch or alders.



Below I can see into the courtyard of the posh apartments across the way. The steel ball in the centre is a fountain with water constantly running over its sides. There are more fountains like them in the city centre.

Down the hall is the common room and kitchen. It’s all nice and modern and everything works. It took a little while to figure out the convection oven since the controls have universal symbols that none of us (from three continents) could understand.

The common room has the same nice view as from my room, but no balconies for us, we’re grad students. The windows open at the top and then only a few inches for ventilation. Apparently there is concern regarding student suicide rate during finals week. Apparently the janitorial staff at Oxford is trained in suicide prevention and regularly patrol high, unrestricted areas during peak stress periods.

I am happily located about a quarter mile from the archaeology department. Every day I pass St. George’s Church as I walk downhill. Now that the fall is underway, it’s particularly beautiful.

The Paternoster

The sun rises around 7 now. This morning there were dark clouds and the dawn was a brilliant dark red below them. It looked Wagnerian.

But the day turned out to be nice. I had an errand to run over near the ArtsTower and decided to check it out. It's a 1960's scheduled monument (which in US terms means that it’s an historic building). But from what I hear there are many who regret the scheduled part. It is impressive but an exercise in how not to build a university building. It's the tallest thing around and yet has only two lifts and the famous paternoster lift (I've tried to embed a little video I took with my cell phone, but rather than spend hours figuring it out, I'll leave it to you to click on the icon above and watch the thing go up and down). The building is now being used at twice the capacity that it was originally designed for, and so anyone who has business in the building is advised to get there a half an hour early because they might have to take the stairs. The building is scheduled for extensive renovation next year and the students are looking forward to being put elsewhere for awhile.

The building is impressively big by Sheffield standards, but in typical 1960's hubris the main entrance is at the back of the building, so one has to walk around the entire thing in order to enter. Presumably it gives time to admire the ultra modern, space age architecture. Once inside, I found that one of the lifts was out of order, so I hopped on to the paternoster. It does take a little courage since the thing shakes and shudders as if it's going to fall apart at any moment. It doesn't help that it occasionally makes a hideous screeching noise and then does stop momentarily.
I went up to the library level and spent some time there. When I had arrived class was in session and the place was relatively empty. I made the mistake of leaving the library around noon and found the building suddenly packed. I had thought to ride the paternoster to the top and see the countryside, but now it was filled. The signs say only two are allowed on at a time, but most cubicles had three or four students. The lift was also filled to capacity, so I figured I'd save the view for another day and walked downstairs. The experience makes me appreciate our archaeology department even more. It’s old (vintage 1912), and while the lift is perpetually broken, there are only three floors. Unlike the department at Nottingham, I probably won’t get my own office, but I will have a desk and workspace.

Tuesday 13 October

I was back to washing Stonehenge bones today. I still find myself a little in awe that I am working with these artefacts. I put the ones I washed last week into labelled bags and now they wait to be sorted and identified. It will be tough, the pieces are all so small. Sometimes I can make out if they are a bit of skull or rib, but I’m only guessing.

A woman named Beatrice worked next to me. She’s in European Prehistory, specializing in Palaeolithic art. She was continuing work on washing skeletons excavated at York. Today it was a man who was buried in a mass grave from the time of the Civil War. He must have suffered an abdominal injury at some point because his lower ribs were badly messed up. Another student came in looking for the bones she was working on. They were from a medieval burial and had horribly fused knees and elbows. The person must have been in a lot of pain and crippled. That skeleton will go in for testing to determine the cause of death. The student thinks syphilis is a likely suspect. I know there are some York burials where strains of TB are being examined to see how the disease mutated from medieval times onward. With that information researchers might be able to predict future mutations.
 

I printed out my ballot and after checking on some of the local referendums, I’ll mail it back to Minnesota in plenty of time for the election.

It looks as if Sara Palin won’t be getting a vote from her future son-in-law. Apparently he didn’t get around to registering to vote. http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/politics/sns-ap-palin-wasilla-heartthrob,0,5887264.story You’d think that they’d want to get every last vote they could lay their hands on.
 

This evening I ate dinner with my flatmate Yoyo. I enjoy her company and she works hard to improve her English. She told me a great story about another student she met who was very proud of his tattoo. He was British, but the tattoo was of Chinese characters and he asked her what it said (apparently he trusted his tattoo artist waaay too much). She looked at it and said it meant 'table'. He was upset and said it was supposed to mean something powerful and profound, and asked her if it could mean anything else. Yoyo thought for a moment and said, yes, it could also mean 'desk'.

Wednesday 14 October

The faience went through the furnace and the results were interesting. The beads were made from the same batch of materials as the pendants, but I’d added gum tragacanth in order to model them more easily. It seemed to interfere with the vitrification process and so they turned out rough and porous. The pendants turned out as they should have, and the bowl was interesting. I didn’t glaze the bottom and so the sand (coarse beach sand for this one) didn’t vitrify. As a result it scratches off fairly easily. The inside had the same problem as a couple others had where the thicker glaze didn’t melt as much as the glaze on thinner sections, and while it did vitrify, the surface is rougher and lighter in colour.

Today’s practical was comparing different glass making materials and so we each measured out fine sand and added plant ash. I chose bracken. We also have oak, beech wood and seaweed. We combined the ash in different proportions to the sand, all carefully weighed and mixed. Now they are all in nicely labelled crucibles waiting to be put into the furnace… If all goes well, we’ll have dozens of little crucibles of glass to analyze.


 

Sunday 5 October:  Nine Ladies

The past few days have been packed, but pretty fun. I now have a bank account here and a debit card. This is significant because Britain almost exclusively uses a chip and pin system and have been phasing out the magnetic strip cards. So, while I can get money out of an ATM, I haven’t been able to use my US bank cards at many shops, or use any of the self check-out lines at the grocery store. The chip and pin cards do have the magnetic stripe, but it also has a chip similar to the ones on a SIM card.

Saturday was a day to relax and get caught up on writing projects. I walked down to the Castle Market (significantly I walked to the Castle Market. I didn’t just happen to come across it while I was wandering about). Along the way I passed an old churchyard with an apple tree full of small apples. I picked a couple and took them along. They tasted very good for what looked like wild fruit; there were some blackberries, too.

       Sunday was a full day. I was to have lunch with Rob and Judy, whom I met last March. They are friends of Gretchen’s (my boss from the Science Museum) and live on the edge of Sheffield. They’ve lived in Canada and the US and Rob is fascinated by American history. He’s a retired professor of psychology and now lectures as a hobby. Something that I don’t think is done in the US much. Judy made us a very nice lunch and suggested we go for a drive. She’d seen an article in the local paper about a ring of standing stones called the Nine Ladies and since she’d never seen them, she suggested we go for a drive. It’s just the beginning of autumn now and the leaves are beginning to turn. We drove past Chatsworth and then up into the hills.

As we passed various villages Judy would explain which Duke owned them. The place took a little bit of finding, but whenever we really needed directions there seemed to be someone around to ask. In the end it wasn’t hard to find the place, despite there being no signs. The reason that the circle was written up was because several groups were protesting the expansion of a quarry that would significantly alter the landscape and disturb archaeologically sensitive sites. We hiked through a small path through woods, little more than a deer path, with ferns growing as high as my chest. We wondered at times if we were following the proper path, but figured it best if we aimed for uphill. After my experience at Mam Tor, I figure these sorts of things are always going to be as high as possible. All through the hike, I kind of marvelled at the fact that after Sunday lunch I was going for a walk in the country to see a stone circle. Dressed in Sunday clothes no less.

Finally we seemed to reach a crest and saw the stones ahead at the top of the rise. It was a perfect bright afternoon, with the sun shining on the stones. They aren’t huge, but hauling them up there still would have been a chore. There were nine and one flat paving stone in a large circle. Forty feet off was the King Stone. I wished I’d brought a compass (I definitely need one) so I could see how things line up. I could have used my watch, since it would be nice to have something more precise. But it looked as if the King Stone might have lined up astronomically with the centre of the circle. Then again, there were too many trees around to see if it lined up with any features of the landscape. After wandering around and admiring them for a while, we headed back down the path we came. After a few minutes hike we were surprised to find ourselves at the ring again. The second try did the trick and we realized that we missed the style next to a gate. 

Back at the Braggs, we had tea with toast and cheese while Rob played boogie-woogie music for us. Judy gave me rosemary and basil plants, so I now have a little culinary garden going in the kitchen.

I got dropped off at the university student union where I met Colin and joined in with the role playing society. It was fun being in a game again, even if it was a one off. I joined a group playing Edgewalkers. A modern day urban fantasy game set in Sheffield. I did pretty well. I found out later that the first thing I did was exactly the opposite of what the GM planned. It all started off with a significant character being blown up and the only witness was badly injured in the explosion. People who game with me, know that I would never run away from an explosion. In fact I commandeered a car to get back to it. Then I proceeded to split up the party. We had fun and I didn’t damage the GM too badly…

I am seriously considering running a game myself…

8 October:   Vitreous Materials and Faience

The time is flying by. Tuesday we had our Glass and Vitreous Materials class (it almost sounds like something from Hogwarts). This week was Faience. The first part of the class was lecture and then we got our hands dirty (we are told not to wear nice clothes to class).

Faïence is finely ground sand that is fired with things like bicarbonate of soda (baking soda), calcium carbonate and sodium carbonate (washing soda) and small amounts of copper oxide. After it’s fired faience looks like clay with a turquoise glaze, but it is actually an early form of glass. The earliest pieces were quartz pebbles that were carved and then glazed with the copper oxide. Later on people figured out how to grind up quartz (and sand), wet it with a little water, add the copper oxide and mould it into shapes. I made a few beads and pendants, but the stuff is very hard to work freehand. In ancient Egypt they usually pressed them into molds. After air drying it goes into a furnace (although it is a modern one, we won’t be doing it in a homemade brick furnace), and a chemical reaction occurs during firing. The carbonates and silica combine to make something very like glass and the excess carbonates migrate to the surface, still fused with the silica provided by the sand. But because we added copper oxide, it will all be a turquoise blue. I am doing two of the three types of Faience: efflorescence (where the glaze is part of the body) and application (where I paint the glaze on). There's a third type that's still done in Iran called the Qom technique or cementation, where artifact is made and buried in a bowlful of the dry glaze powder. The whole bowl is fired and then when it's cooled the excess glaze is chipped off.

9 October: Carl Wark

          















       Earlier this week the call went out to all archaeology grad students that the needed volunteers to clean the cremated bones excavated from the Aubrey holes at Stonehenge. Sheffield I one of the school’s that’s been participating in the project. I was first in line this morning (closely followed by Colin) and got trained in for washing. It’s not much different than what I’ve done before, but still, these are human remains from Stonehenge, rather than clinker from Minneapolis. I will start work on Friday morning.

            I was supposed to meet Judy again this morning. If the weather was bad, we’d go to the Millenium gallery, but if it was good, we’d head out to Carl Wark, another Iron Age hillfort. It was a beautiful day, so we hopped in the car and headed for the Peak’s District.

            Carl Wark is a famous hillfort (and reasonably accessible b public transit). We accidentally drove to another hillfort that was on the next hill over. It’s amazing to think that people hauled these boulders up the hill, but the view is amazing. On the other side we could see Carl Wark and so we scrambled down the hillside and hiked over to the other hillfort. It’s not a long walk, and there are others in the neighbourhood. In fact it seemed as if every hill around here had its own hill fort. The heather is just past blooming now and the leaves are turning. The weather was fantastic and we enjoyed looking at the scenery. There are no groomed trail or safety railing here; just cliffs and rocks and the occasional sheep. A couple groups of rock climbers were there along with other hikers.

            My metallurgy class was at two, so we stopped back at Rob and Judy’s house for a quick lunch. Rob gave me a couple of his short stories to read and then I got a ride back to the archaeology department.

Amazing. At 10 am I can be handling artefacts from Stonehenge, By 11 I am climbing around hillforts and I am back in class by 2. OK, I admit I was a little sleepy at class, but I held my own on understanding the chemical reactions caused by roasting and smelting sulphide ores. Carbonate ores, too!

            After class we all assembled at the Red Deer. We had a few beers and enjoyed talking archaeology. Roger joined us and I quickly got wrapped up in talking to him about possible projects. There is so much going on. I could take off for Greece or central Italy. Roger is also doing work in Siberia, which oddly enough dovetails with some of the stuff I was doing this summer.

            The other news is that the night before I finished the rough draft of my article on the Copper Complex of the Northern Midwest. I sent off copies for people to look at and comment on before I submit it to a journal. So, I had a few reasons to celebrate.

10 October

            The next morning I headed off to the department with a brief stop at the library to scan my ballot application. Minnesota makes it pretty easy to do an absentee ballot. I download the form, fill it in using Adobe Acrobat, print it out, sign it, scan it and submit it via email. My ballot will arrive as an email that I can print out and mail in or send it back as an email. I have enough time that I’ll opt for the former.

Colin and I were going to work together, but he fell ill with the crud that’s going around. So, after locating the missing 1 mm sieve, I got out a little ziplock bag of dirt, bones and rock and then emptied it into the sieve and gently ran water over it. I carefully picked out the bits of bones, rocks and shells and let the muddy part go into the sink. Then all of it goes onto paper towels that are on a tray with a wire mesh bottom. It's delicate work, we can't use brushes and so just run clean water over the fragments of bone while rubbing them gently with our fingers. The bits are small having been cremated by fire, but many are identifiable and we hope to ascertain a minimum number of individuals from them. It's a little overwhelming when I consider that I am washing part of a skull of someone who was buried thousands of years ago, and was important enough to their community to have been buried at Stonehenge.

We also have the bones from the infant burials exhumed from Stonehenge. They are in amazingly good shape considering their age and that infant bones normally decompose quickly. We have two years to study everything and then it all gets re-buried.

            I spend my days being blown away that I am here and doing this work. There are times when none of this seems real.

By the way, the sun sets around 6:30 now and it's dark by 7 pm.

Starting a bank account in Britain isn’t much different than starting one in the US. I had to wait until I could get a letter from the university stating that I was enrolled as a full time student and another letter from the university confirming my address. The problem in Sheffield is that it is very much a college town and the banks are inundated with students all trying to start accounts at the same time. As a result, I had to make an appointment and I could get one faster if I went to one on the edge of town. I chose a branch out beyond the university in Ecclesall Road which happens to be near the home of some friends of mine, so I already knew the bus route out there. By the way, it was raining lightly today, but nothing more than an occasional drizzle.

I set up a checking account with an attached savings account that gives 5% interest. If I get a part time job next year and can make regular deposits, then I can earn more interest. They seem to want to encourage people to save money here.

Afterward I wanted to get back so I could sit in on the pottery class, so I caught the bus thinking it would take me back to my neighbourhood on roughly the same route that I set out on.

Oh no, things are never that easy. The bus followed Ecclesall Rd back past the western branch of the university and then swung south of the city centre. Then it headed north and passed the Castle Market. At that point I thought it would turn west again, go a few streets and drop me off at the circle at Broad Lane and Tenter Street. Nope. It continued north. This is interesting, I think. I crossed the River Don (it does look as if it flows quietly, despite last year’s floods) and continued north. And we kept going north. When we passed FirthPark, I knew that I might as well sit back and enjoy the scenery, because I didn’t know where we were headed and if I got off I’d just have to pay another bus fare and hope I was headed back to Sheffield. The landscape was pretty and we headed up into the hills above town. If I had gotten off the bus at Ecclesfield, I might have been able to see my flat. There was a huge panoramic view of the city. But the bus continued on north, through all sorts of interesting villages, up through Chapletown and up to High Green where it wandered around for a bit and then started back. This wasn’t just suburbs, there were sheep grazing in places. It was fascinating, but I did want to return to Sheffield some day, I’ve become fond of the place and I have a class tomorrow.

Finally the bus got to places that were more familiar. It went past Castle Market again, but I was brave and wanted to see the stop where I should have got off, had the bus gone the way I thought it did. I saw it, let it pass and ended up in the Moor (the shopping district). By the time I recognized where I was I realized I was near Sainsbury’s and could pick up some groceries. I bought a few things, and as I’d had enough of busses for the day, I walked back to my flat.

There you go Bob, have fun mapping that out :)

A couple days ago it was dark at 7:30. Tonight it was dark at 7:15. By the time mid December comes around, I’ll be ready to visit the 45^th parallel again.

Things I am learning so far: The windows here only open slightly, if at all. I figured that it was because of fears of grad student suicide rates. Then I found out that at Oxford the maintenance staff are trained in suicide prevention and during times of high stress (finals week, etc), bridges and higher towers are closely watched. Only one of the women in my flat considered Oxford, but none of them wanted the high pressure that Oxford puts on its students, or to pay that much tuition.

The weather continues to surprise me. Since I’ve been here it hasn’t really rained yet during the day. Even the cloudiest day has had sun at some point. Today has another brilliant blue sky.

OK, it did rain a little today. For the fifteen minutes I was inside the IT centre getting my laptop registered for the university wireless system. I knew it happened because the sidewalk was wet when I left the building.

I enjoy the irony of the fact that I am an American of Italian descent sitting in a flat in England, listening to Louis Armstrong on my laptop while reading essays on multiculturalism.

I had my first lecture in Material Culture Studies. It went well, although the class conflicts with schedules, so it might change date and time depending on who is lecturing that week. Tonight it was my adviser Roger Doonan. From the reading, and then from the lecture I realized that this course would resemble one that I took at the University of Minnesota from Prof. Wells. It will be interesting to get a British perspective as the study of material culture is so subjective and the field has changed radically over the years.

Prof. Doonan had to apologize for one mistake in the course description. It said that we would have a field trip to Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam. Instead we’ll be going to the local museum here in Sheffield. I was kind of wondering how the department would handle the logistics of us running over to the continent, but instead we’ll just be running up the road. This course will require two papers, one of two thousand words and the other twice as long.

I also learned that I can sit in on the ceramics course. If I can race back from the bank in time, I might be able to make it. Most of the students are studying ceramics and only a couple of us are in metals. But if there’s room, I’d be glad to join in since the class will have us making pottery. I could use a new coffee cup. It probably won’t have a handle and will be shaped like a bell beaker. And it won’t be glazed, so it won’t really be vitreous…. I could use something to put pencils in on my desk.

I set out for England one week ago. It seems like a long time and still only a short time.

I decided today would be cleaning day. I vacuumed my room and then took my laundry to the launderette in the building next door. While the wash was on I went to the courtyard of my own building and practised the Tai Chi fan form and then the other weapons forms using the fan. I’m hesitant to use the wooden swords, since there are strict laws governing any weapons here. Yesterday I bought some kitchen knives and even those have restrictions: no one under eighteen can buy anything with an edge on it. So a three foot Chinese short sword probably would set off some alarms. The double sabres would be right out…

Then I decided to email Colin and ask if he knew of anyplace. He had mentioned going to a medieval re-enactment group that would be doing weapons re-enactments. In fact it was today, in a few minutes. So I ran and grabbed my laundry out of the dryer, grabbed my sword bag and raced to the students union.

So much for reading three books in two days.

The group was a university 15^th Century re-enactment group and didn’t know quite what to do with me. I explained that all I wanted was some space to practise my weapons forms where I wouldn’t get arrested. Eventually one of the instructors gave me a section of the room where I could run through sword and sabre forms in perfect contentment. It felt good to be doing the forms again. I am very rusty on the double sabre and need to work out some kinks.

On the other hand I seemed to impress some people and one of the instructors was a little apologetic, as he felt they were doing a sort of cobbled together thing, where I was doing something that had some sort of pedigree. I might join in with the medieval folks later. One of the instructors felt that I already knew what they were doing and there was no point in me sitting through a beginner’s class. I might take them up on it. Meanwhile I am enjoying the workout. I think one of the instructors would like to learn more about Chinese style, so I might have to work on my Wu Dang fencing form. Just having someone to work with on the training techniques would be nice.

Colin was there with a sabre and I was surprised to see my flatmate, Veronica there. I feel kind of like I was outed, but Veronica thought my swords were pretty cool and tried her hand at a couple of them. She said that now she realizes why I don’t have much stuff in my room, all my weight allowance was taken up by weapons (and I didn’t even bring the heavy swords…).

Tomorrow afternoon classes start. I only have three courses this term, but they involve a ton of reading and writing.

When I was excavating here during the summers, on the solstice the sun set sometime around 11:30 pm and came up around 3 am, so I’ve been curious about how rapidly the length of day changes, and if I would really notice the difference between here and Minneapolis. So far it gets dark around 7:30 pm

Today was my mother’s birthday. She would have been 72. The best way I could think of to celebrate was to go to the mall and go shopping. She loved malls and shopping and did it just for the fun of it. There were a few things I still needed to get set up (plus I really needed a pair of shoes), so this seemed an appropriate time. This is somewhat of a sacrifice since I don’t like malls very much and of all the things to shop for shoes are at the bottom of the list (I once suffered heat stroke while my mother was shopping for shoes when we lived in the San JoaquinValley). So after checking some books out of the library, I boarded the Supertram to Meadowhall. There are three supertram lines in Sheffield (as opposed to Minneapolis’ one).  For £3.70 I got a day pass. One of the major differences between the UK and the US is that when you get on the bus or the tram in the UK you pay for how far you’re travelling. You pay the driver on a bus, or the conductor on the tram and you don’t need correct change! That’s right. No one ever has to stand at the front of the bus and ask the other passengers if they have change for a five. It’s amazing.

I planned to read one of my textbooks on the way out, but I got wrapped up in the scenery and conversation with other passengers. We happened to be heading east, which is the same as the view from my window, so it was fun to see the distant landscape getting closer.

It took less time than I thought and suddenly I was thrust into mall-land. Meadowhall is one of the bigger malls in the UK, but about as big as a moderately sized mall in the US (think Southdale in Minneapolis or Northridge in Milwaukee). Since it was my mother’s birthday, I decided to see the whole thing and proceeded to walk around it all. I randomly headed clockwise and soon after realized that most people here go counter-clockwise. I tried not to be too confusing. There are all the usual shops here, just different names. I found the Poundstore, the equivalent of the dollar stores in the States where I finally got some measuring cups and baking supplies. I also found a place to get some decent inexpensive shoes. I don’t know how they’ll hold up, but they were just £9, ($18.40) so I can’t complain and they should get me through winter here. The entire circuit of the mall only took a couple hours. I got all the practical things I needed, but part of the spirit of the day was to buy something fun. But between wanting to keep an eye on money and needing practical stuff, I just didn’t come across much fun stuff that I could justify spending money on. I was, however fairly loaded down by all the practical stuff I was carrying.
So after seeing all there was to see at the mall, I headed back to the supertram. They come about every ten minutes, so there’s never much of a wait. Since I had a day pass, I though about stopping at Castle Market to see if there was anything else I could pick up. But I decided I’d had enough. It was an uphill climb to get home and I still needed to read these books before Monday. Then just as we reached the Castle Market stop, the conductor announced that the tram was going in a different direction and that anyone wishing to go on the university area would have to take the tram that was coming up behind this one. So, I had to get off at castle Market anyway. And since I was there, I decided to see if there was someplace I could possibly buy a wastebasket. I hadn’t found one anywhere and just having a plastic carry bag on the floor was annoying.

A flower vendor was just packing up and he had a very nice, good sized rosemary plant. I was planning to cook a chicken tomorrow and missed the herb plants that I had at home, so I was glad to get a new one. On the way back to the tramstop, I stopped into Wlikinson’s where at last I found a wastebasket. So it was a successful shopping day after all. I am pretty well set for everything I need and am coming in well under the budget I set for myself. Part of this is due to the fact that I don’t have any textbooks to buy. We have a reading list and the university libraries carry multiple copies of the needed texts. The catch is that I can only check them out for a few days at a time, so I need to read the books in a hurry and get them back so the next person can check them out.

Today I got up early and headed across town to register for classes. Unlike the universities I’m used to, I have to sign up in person rather than online. I also had to have my adviser sign off on the classes I chose for the year. I skipped breakfast and got there a half an hour early (meaning I had vending machine coffee and a candy bar to get me through the day). When I arrived I was about the 10^th in line. I’d heard horror stories from students who registered earlier in the week (we register by department, archaeology is the last), so I was prepared for the worst. Instead I was done in a few minutes and proceeded to the line for health care. I’d done the preliminary stuff for that online, but to no avail. Midway through the process, the computer crashed and we finished filling out the forms by hand. So now I am covered by National Health! After that there was a fair amount of running around trying to set up my university email account set up.

Once that was done I decided to start my checking account. Unfortunately the banks are overwhelmed by incoming students, so I made an appointment with a suburban branch for Tuesday.

I’ve noticed that when I ask directions from people over thirty they will tell me where I’m going isn’t far and will describe the distance in how long it takes to walk to where I need to go. People under thirty will describe the same place as being way, far away.

I thought I’d wander over to Woolworths to buy some cooking supplies, but I got distracted by the Castle Market. It’s a proper European market (except in England they have produce and dry goods in the same market). There are cheese shops, tons of fresh fish, fresh meats, chickens complete with legs and heads, breads, fruits, vegetables and lots of noise. It’s heavenly chaos. There’s also an Oxfam store next door, so I got myself a wine glass and a few more kitchen things. I headed out loaded down with a bag marked Oxfam and another from Marks and Spencer. I was a walking contradiction.

I’d already decided to celebrate by going to the Dog and Partridge. I’d met the owner last spring while walking in the cemetery of St. George’s. I walked in the place and we recognized each other right away. I told her she brought me luck with the lucky pennies we found that day.

I sat down and had an enormous scotch egg and chips along with a local ale called Brimstone. The tap has a goat’s head in a pentagram. Roger at Magus would be proud. It’s pretty good. Not bitter at all, sort of like a light brown ale.

The pub has a gas fire in the grate and is decorated with JFK memorabilia. I’d seen that in plenty of US Irish pubs, but didn’t expect to see it here. The main difference was that these were all vintage papers from ’63 and ’68 instead of modern reproductions. They also had hand drawn portraits of some of the musicians who play there. Live music every night until 9, but Ann told me to come in Monday through Wednesday, as the place gets too loud on weekends. This is the place for Irish ex-pats. Nearly everyone there had an Irish accent. Two men in the corner were arguing about conspiracy theories in American politics. It seemed appropriate for the décor.

As I walked back uphill to my flat I realized why I feel so comfortable here. I grew up in the Bay Area where I was always surrounded by hills. I never felt completely comfortable on the prairie. It’s nice to have protective cover again. Sheffield also has a similar temperature. We’re pretty far from the ocean, but there are still cool breezes, and it’s never very hot or very cold here (by Minnesota standards).

I had such a huge lunch that I didn’t bother with dinner. Instead I improvised baking a loaf of Amish bread with chocolate chips, almonds and lavender (I ran out to the garden here and grabbed some for baking and saved some for marinating my chicken). The loaf turned out all right despite having no mixing bowl or measuring cups and doing some rapid math to figure out what temperature the oven should be.

This evening we sat around the TV and watched Sarah Palin trying to speak in full sentences and Bush talk about how “this sucker could tank”. I’m hoping my checks get deposited while the money is still worth something. But I’m registered, my tuition is paid and I’m glad that I can concentrate on being a student again.

I have been woefully behind in blogging this summer. I still need to write about the trip to Itasca and the stresses of trying to get everything together for Sheffield. But rather than try and get caught up for now, I figured I’d write about what I did today. We had our first department field trip. It was mostly archaeomaterials and landscape people… a fun group. The trip was exhausting, but we had been warned. I brought my walking stick just in case and joined everyone at the NorthgateBuilding at 9am. We piled into two busses and headed out first to Chatsworth Parkland. This is a manor house with extensive gardens. We were told that we wouldn’t meet the duke, but had a view of the grounds where we could see the entire landscape. Then we were handed maps and drawings of how the place looked in the 17^th Century and were invited to discuss the significance of the changes and the politics of the landscape. It is a managed naturalism, and when the high folks landscaped, they didn’t mess around with sapling trees. They dug up entire grown trees and planted them where they wanted them. That way they created a sort of pseudo heritage, making it look as if they’d been there all along. We were also given survey maps that showed medieval cultivation and how things were changed, including moving the village away, over the hill. Wouldn’t want the rustic folks spoiling that naturalistic view.

Then we hopped in our busses and headed off to Arbor Low, a Neolithic Henge. This was by far the coolest thing (well, for me). We were invited to scramble around the place and see what we could learn from it. In the early 1900’s two undated cremation (pot) burials were excavated on the site and one inhumation with the head pointing east. Some lithics and antler picks were also found. This henge is the best preserved and is on a ridge looking north over the valley and in the far distance it faces another hillfort (Mam Tor). In its day it wouldn’t have been covered in grass, instead it would have been sheer rock and much steeper and deeper. There were no holes found for the stones strewn about and it might be that they never stood. Or they might have been broken off and their bases overgrown long ago. A third possibility would be that it was one of those perpetual building projects that never seems to get finished.

The whole place displays an immense amount of coordination of labour. Theories of what it was about ranged from a meeting place for various groups to a ritual site. For most of the area, the interior would be hidden from view, although a bit of some of the higher parts might be seen and entry would have been restricted to the very front. Just behind it, to the south, is a small round barrow that contained some pottery.

We exited to the south and headed west and came to the Gib Hill Long Barrow. This was excavated in the 18^th century and was no longer as well defined as it had been. It appeared to have been constructed over a long time with many layers, including one of charred bone, a cist burial in the centre and then later Bronze Age cremations in the upper layer.

For lunch a few of us ran off to a tea shop. One of the students from Belgium was feeling chilled and wanted tea. Most of us had brought lunches, but I was glad to have something warm, too. I impressed everyone by apparently being impervious to the cold by wearing my tevas the whole time (I did have warm socks with me, just in case, but it really wasn’t that bad). I also treated myself to a Derbyshire slice. It’s a very nice pastry with a pie crust bottom, a layer of jam, then marzipan and then a crunchy top. Very good, and not as sweet as I thought it would be.

Next it was on to St. John the Baptist Church in Tideswell. I’m afraid I didn’t take as detailed notes, but the windows did represent different stages of building from the 14^th and 16^th centuries, but seemed to miss the 15^th century entirely. The most unusual feature was that the sacristy bell was still intact; most of them had been destroyed during the Reformation. We had a good lecture on the changing idea of religion through and after the reformation, something that’s easy to forget these days.

We were set to go to another hillfort, but we were booked into Peveril Castle and needed to be on time. This is where things got arduous. The castle is in ruins, but was fairly small in its day. We were asked to figure out why anyone would build something so high up and inaccessible. After many suggestions we learned it was a hunting castle and mainly controlled the trade in Castletown down below (way down below, where we parked the busses…). Rather than defences it was there to look impressive and to make sure that folks paid their taxes and provide some sport for the local nobles. The hike up was not for the weak of heart, but it is worth it. We could climb around in what was left of the keep and look down all the distance we climbed and the caves and lead mines on the other side. The gift shop had some impressive reproduction swords, including a nice Bronze Age number for £85. Sadly, I still have tuition to pay…

So from the medieval we went on to the Late Bronze Age at Mam Tor. They promised us that, while it was a long hike, it wasn’t quite as high as PeverilCastle. I might debate that. We could see it from Peveril Castle, high on a peak to the northwest. If you look in the photo where there’s a quarry on the side of the hill and follow the crest to the right, there will be a small bump. That’s where we were headed. So far I’d ignored the walking stick I brought along, but this time decided to use it. I’m not sure it was much use, but it was reassuring that I could at least whack at something as I fell off the hill. Mam Tor is a hillfort on a windswept ridge running along the crest of the Pennines. I noted the grass was long and that even the sheep probably didn’t bother coming up here. The ridge separates two huge valleys, both geographically and geologically. To the north is dark grey stone and a lighter white stone is in the valley to the south. There were signs of habitation on the top and several platforms for buildings on the banks and ditches surrounding the hillfort. Possibly it was constructed to corral cattle. The amount of shovelling and earth movement is impressive, considering that the most popular shovels of the day were made of wood or cow shoulder blades. The wind blew constantly and I wondered how anyone up there could make themselves heard. The banks and ditches ran all the way around and then looped up and formed large hillocks on either side of the path up there. This is on the Pennine Way, a walking route that runs along the hills through the Peak’s District. Others, non grad students, were walking along the route, and at one point we were passed by a mountain biker.

We were all feeling pretty wobbly by the end, but we had one more stop: Navio Roman Fort. Unfortunately there wasn’t much to see here. It was small as far as Roman forts go and all that was visible were some blocks that had been excavated from the praetorium. The field was square and dropped off at the corners so we could see the dimensions. At one time there would have been corner towers, but it could have been that a lot of it was wooden. Outside of the praetorium, no other excavations have been done. Kind of an anticlimactic end to the day, but at least it was on level ground. We piled into our busses and headed back to the department. I was thinking of heading back home, but a few of the students led the way to the Red Deer, the archaeology pub. I didn’t think I could stay awake for a pint, but I managed. We talked about the courses we have coming up (the others are insanely jealous of us archaeomaterials people since we have only eight hours of in class time per week) and gossiped about professors.

One pint was enough for all of us and we went our various ways. Friday we register for classes and Monday the fun commences.

Despite the exhaustion, I wouldn’t have missed this. I could study the Bronze Age for years (well, I guess I have) and never fully realize what hillforts and barrows are really like. One really needs to walk around and try to hike up to them to get an idea of how big and inaccessible they really are. The places are fantastic and I hope to make it out there again sometime.

The hostel was loud that night. Apparently Newcastle is the place to go for clubbing and staying in a hostel. Fortunately the crowd was diverted away from our room and we had the place pretty much to ourselves.

In the morning we had tea and then headed off to the Grainger market to stock up on supplies and gifts. White Stilton, Chevre, Hadrian Northumbrian (with caraway), Wensleydale and most the other cheeses were about 100 grams for £1. Colin had been good despite the fact that the hostel was between two gaming shops, with another one around the corner. On one occasion he handed me his wallet and made me promise not to give it back to him until we were at least three streets away from the shop. Only then would he go in. But now it was time to do some last minute shopping. We stopped in at Forbidden Planet and loaded up with Dr. Who souvenirs. Then we grabbed our bags, checked our email one last time and boarded the train to Sheffield.

Jen was very ready to go home and Colin missed Megan a lot. I was trying to stretch my mind around the idea that Sheffield would be my home next fall.

Back in Sheffield I left Colin and Jen at the Forum. Jen was still under the weather but Colin introduced her to lambecs, so she was feeling much better. I wanted to take a look at the available housing. I was hoping for the St. George Flats or Mappin Court, both of which were around the corner from the archaeology dept. Mappin Court looked pretty good. From the outside I could see in to the kitchen, which looked fairly large. There was a university bookstore across the street and more modern housing a little farther on. The next block had a large church on a knoll, surrounded by a small cemetery. I thought that it looked nicer than the cathedral and that if I wanted to attend a church, I thought this one would be nice. I looked around to see where the St. George flats were and it dawned on me that this was where they were. The brochure said they were in a converted church, but I hadn’t expected it to be a Church! I walked up the steps and across the walk. Crocuses and daffodils were blooming around the headstones. I walked around the building and read that the main part was now a lecture hall. The place even had crenellations! (Always an important factor in choosing student housing...) Coming around the other side I met a woman walking her border collie. She introduced herself and told me she was from Ireland. Ann runs the local Irish pub, the Dog and Partridge, just a few doors away. She told me she liked to meet all the foreign students who stay there. As we walked she found a penny on the ground and then another, telling me they were good luck. She found another and I was about to suggest that it be for the dog, when she found a fourth and so we both had two lucky pennies. She always picks up lucky pennies and who was I to argue with the owner of an Irish pub?

As we walked a Nigerian student joined us. He offered to show me the rooms in St. George. We bid Ann goodbye and I took a look around. The kitchen was small, but neat and clean. He explained that the room he had was one of the smallest ones in the building. It was small, it barely fit the bed and desk, but it had its own bath. I considered where I would put up more bookshelves.

I hurried back to the Forum (four streets away, just past the archaeology building) to tell Colin and Jen about the place. A drizzle started, so I was content to have a beer until it lightened up. As soon as I could I convinced Colin to come with me. When we reached the church he was as startled as I was. It was a church! Suddenly he had to weigh the difference between studying in Durham and actually living in a church.

We went back to the Forum and had another round while waiting for the next to last train out to London. The Forum is a comfortable and fun place with good food, very good beverages and wireless.

Jen used the laptop to find out the standby situation. There were five seats available and seven people signed up for them. Around 7pm we got on the train for London and then the shuttle to Gatwick.

We had thirteen hours to wait for the flight home and it was obvious many others had to wait it out here. We took turns watching the luggage and walking around looking at shops. Marks and Spenser had chocolate Easter Daleks. It’s a strange and wonderful country here.

We finally found a coffee shop with reasonably comfy chairs that we could rearrange. A family with two small children was curled up asleep on a couple couches. Other people came and went. I didn’t sleep much; my mind was racing all night. I dozed when I was exhausted, but I seemed to be all right.

In the morning Jen was worried about the ticket situation. We got in line and at one point were told that there were seats available, but they were in business class and we would have to pay extra. Fortunately some other passengers were glad to pay for the upgrade. The plane arrived at the last minute. Colin was nervous now because he knew we could be booted off up until the moment the plane started moving. But daylight saving time was in our favor. This year the date in the US had been changed and since Northwest was scheduled on US time, the plane was leaving an hour earlier than some people realized. Despite that, the plane was packed, but we were on and flying back to the States. I was dead tired but was having a strange mental transition as to where my home was.

 

Colin woke up with a bit of a headache. We’d had a lot of mead the night before and not enough substantial food. I made tea and soon Colin was feeling a little better.

Today we were going to Durham. Colin had applied to Durham and wanted to see the university. He fell in love with the place right away. We wandered around the town, stopping in almost every church. We finally made it up to the cathedral. We visited the cloisters and saw where scenes from the first Harry Potter movie were filmed. We’d bought bread, fruit and cheese along and ate our lunch while sitting in the cloisters. An evensong service was scheduled for that evening and I insisted that we would go, since I’d missed it when I was there last summer. We walked around the cathedral some more, trying to decipher some of the windows. Colin and Jen went up to the top of the tower. I opted out since I’d done it before and my knees told me in no uncertain terms that they would not enjoy that again. Instead I spent some quiet time at St. Cuthbert’s tomb.

After touring more of the cathedral, Colin and I wanted to walk on to the archaeology department. Jen decided to take a look in the castle.

When I last visited, the archaeology department was still being remodeled and now it looked as if the work was completed. Colin dropped in at the office and got a copy of the master’s program. We walked around and looked at the various rooms. I was curious about the conservation lab there. It was brand new and the ventilation system looked interesting. This is opposed to the lab at the Science Museum of Minnesota where the lab is an ancient five years old… Prof. Caple was in the adjoining office and came out to see what we were up to. I’d heard that the conservation department had been cut when I visited last summer, but apparently the university planned to resume it in about three years. We both commented how archaeology departments have their own buildings in the UK, as opposed to having part of a floor. Something we were more accustomed to. As I walked around, I felt downright audacious to be turning down Durham in favor of Sheffield. The place is gorgeous, but I knew that I would be happier with the program in Sheffield.

As we walked back to the castle, the bells began ringing. Colin commented about how he would hear the bells every morning if he was a student there. I teased him saying that he’d get bored with that.

“That’s a lie,” he said. “No wait, that’s a damn lie!”

Colin and I made a detour through St. Oswald’s Churchyard. It is a beautiful old cemetery and a peaceful place. Durham seemed to be the perfect place for a medievalist like Colin.

We collected Jen, who was feeling tired and disappointed that she couldn’t get in to the castle, and went on to evensong. Because an event was being set up, we were all guided up to the choir to be seated. The service was beautiful and included a hymn by Thomas Tallis. I felt calm and as if everything was as it should be.

After the service Durham was shutting down for the evening. We hurried back to the station taking one last look at the cathedral.

Back in Newcastle we thought we’d go out and have a couple beers. The Rose and Crown was around the corner from the hostel and it seemed nice enough, but Friday night was karaoke night and pretty loud. After a quick pint we went in search for a place less boisterous. Everywhere we went the pubs had transformed into dance bars with private clubs upstairs. Very young women were unsuccessfully trying to negotiate walking on cobblestones in heels and miniskirts. It was a bit painful to watch. We decided to head back to the pub near the university, but found that all the calmer places closed early on the weekend. Colin looked around and realized that on weekend nights Newcastle was taken over by vampires in some nihilist SF novel. If it hadn’t been so late, I would have headed back to South Shields and up to the Harbor Lights or the Beacon.

I suggested that since it was our last night before the trip back, we should have a good dinner. We stopped at the hostel and were told that there were a number of good places for dinner on the quayside. We got directions, checked the map in the hall and headed off.

This was the older part of town, near the castle. The area had been nicely renovated, and we soon found an Indian restaurant where we had a great meal. The next day would be an arduous one since we would head back to Sheffield for a bit and then return to London and spend the remainder of the night in the airport.

I got up early and checked my email and waited for Colin and Jen. I was a little wound up because we were going to South Shields and visiting Arbeia. I still don’t know why I am so fascinated by the place, but I enjoy visiting it and all the people there. It felt good to be in a town that I was so familiar with and was glad to see the fort again.

We walked around and I proudly showed off my postholes. It is odd to feel even a little proprietary about postholes, but I’d spent so much time cleaning, drawing and mapping them for the past couple summers that I feel improbably pleased with them.

We walked through the commander’s quarters and barracks, and to the top of the gatehouse, where we could see the layout of the entire fort.

The Moorlands Patera was also there on a special display. When I first heard it was coming to Arbeia, I wished that I could go see it. At the time I never thought that I would have the chance, but here I was staring and taking as many photos as I could of the little dish. And it is small, too. For some reason it’s never photographed with anything to give a sense of scale, and so I thought that it was the size of a good sized bowl or a skillet. A patera is supposed to be a cooking pan after all, and most of the ones I’d seen were the close to the size of modern cookware. But the Moorlands Patera is small, probably six inches in diameter at the most. It would fit easily into my hand. The enameled design is beautiful and well done, knowing how hard it is to fire enamel onto a three dimensional surface and keep the heat even. The design is fascinating because, despite being made in Roman times, it has a distinctly Iron Age motif with multicolored swirls. Around the rim is a list of the Roman forts. The patera might have been made as a souvenir or a gift to a retiring officer.

Roger, Jim and Liz were there, but unfortunately Nick was away at a meeting and Kevin and Terry were excavating an Iron Age site near Newcastle (as it was Kevin came back to the fort and missed us by about fifteen minutes). Roger gave us a small tour of the labs and showed us the many, many boxes of pottery that they were working on as well as other projects they were working on.

Unfortunately Jen’s cold was returning and so we decided to get her back to the hostel. On the way back I thought how most students on break would opt to go to exotic cities, or big places like London or Milan. I would be the odd one spending my free time in Modena and South Shields.

We returned to the Grainger Market and bought mushrooms, garlic, bread and cheese. We also bought fresh fruit and tomatoes. Colin needed some red wine to sauté the mushrooms and so we went to the grocery store. He found a decent bottle of Spanish red and we were good to go until we saw the bottles of mead. In the States there are usually at most one or two brands of mead in a liquor store. Here we found different brands and flavors of mead and ciders as well as honey ale. We had to try the honey ale, and also bought a bottle of Lindisfarne mead, some black current mead and elderflower mead. I’d made elderflower mead before, but never knew that it was ever made commercially. There was elderberry mead and another variety, but we figured that four bottles was enough for our budget.

Jen had a long nap while Colin and I hung out in the kitchen and commenced cooking. We decided to stay in that night and spent many hours eating well and trying the various types of mead and the honey ale. They were all very good.