Alex's Historical Fiction

A sort of poison

Three days of working in an archaeological warehouse. And I'm ruined, again :-) When I worked full time in archaeology, I rarely read a novel and certainly didn't think of doing any creative writing. And after three days of working on finds, I have exactly no creative urges what-so-ever. Any thoughts are centred on the archaeology - what I can do to make my reports better, am I recording properly, my trip to the warehouse (involving a small spot walking - currently hazardous on my foot, getting the bus, and getting a lift from the bus stop) etc. Practical, pragmatic concerns. My sleep pattern was also changing by the third day. Namely, I was having difficulty winding down, so that I wasn't sleeping well. I'm still catching up. My verdict: archaeology is bad for me! Wish I'd worked that out in my early 20s, as opposed to my 40s.

Unfortunately, I haven't finished in the warehouse yet, and can anticipate at least three more days out there next week (Weds-Fri) And then I have to write-up my findings. I wish I hadn't taken it on, and the only thing that made me do so was the promise of publication (otherwise known as actually getting to look at the stuff in depth) Hmmm ...

On the bright side, my foot stood (pun intended) up well to the rigours. When recording finds, I find it easier to stand. I'm always reaching over for comparative fabrics, or rummaging in the boxes for my next find. And stand I did, for many hours. I only sat when my legs, not my foot, got tired. The foot is still not keen on uneven and hard surfaces and was giving me jip when I walked around town. But just standing still was fine, and encouraging.

Seeing the specialist on Tuesday ....

posted by Alex Bordessa @ Saturday, October 22, 2005