Saturday 16th September 1989 - (Week Two) Royston Maybery
A Trip to the Mainland
Today we were away as early as the tide allowed. Wayne and I went off on the bike. Some of the others went to Berwick with Dr Young in the department Land Rover. Others went home to Leicester having served their sentence to be replaced by more prisoners of archaeology.
The last we saw of Dr Young today was at the petrol filling station. He was replenishing the Land Rover. I was putting some air in my rear tyre. Wayne and I pushed on further into the mainland.
Avoiding the A1 we took the quieter roads and traveled at a sedate pace, Wayne pointing out various hill forts as we went. He also pointed out the Anglo Saxon palace site of Ad-Gefryn (Gefryn being the father of King Oswald of Northumbria.)
Our first stop was at Weetwood
Moor, where we cast our
attentions at carved stones of
vast antiquity. We tarried a while, taking photographs of these great
granite slabs on the grass clothed
hillside. Thence back to the motorcycle we left these ancient cup and ring
markings, considering others which lie behind stone walls on adjacent
private land.
On to Alnwick to dine in a fish and chip restaurant and summon money from the bank's dispensing machine. Some time was spent here pursuing other general errands.
Two drunks were regaling the townsfolk, sat on a public bench in a sheltered spot they were in full song. Their flat tones of "Oh home on the range, where the deer and the antelope play" were an embarrassment to the locals and highly entertaining to Wayne and myself. I was tempted to go over there and start conducting them but I thought better of it. Their tunes shortly subsided. Wayne and I searched for a '1 hour' photographic developing service. We searched in vain 'this was a small town.' However, I did acquire some 35mm and some 120 roll film.
We pursued a course towards Hadrian's wall, through Rothbury we traveled to Brunton Turret. This apparently is the best preserved turret on Hadrian's wall. It is little more than shoulder high and squat through centuries of stone robbing. Its remaining masonry is orderly, straight and smooth faced.
We traveled further westward following as best I could the track of the wall. For much of our time the vallum was a short distance to our left. With the wall and ditch to our right we approached Housteads Roman Fort.
On our arrival at Housteads Wayne went into a quiet rage. He objects to the role of English Heritage, believing that not only are excavated finds from northern sites shipped down to museums in London but claims that northern entrance charges are used to finance southern excavations.
Here I wandered and photographed amongst the ruins, walking along Roman roads and past Roman buildings. Housteads whilst a Roman fort was subsequently used in latter centuries as a hideout for bandits. The fort is on a bleak windswept hillside. Though, once imposing only faint shadows of its former glory remain.
Taking a solitary walk westward along the wall I saw some of the natural beauty framed amongst the trees. To my north a precipice of a cliff descending from a great height, to my south a grassy hillside sparsely wooded, the wall wound its way east and west to the horizon.
It was well past 5 o'clock before we made our way back. The weather had been mild all day long, the evening just as pleasant. Only a slight end of summer breeze prevailed adding a memorable freshness to the day.
We made a detour to Hexham where we sought somewhere to eat. By this time Wayne had got over his bout of righteousness at the fort and was more affable. After a grand tour of the town we decided on an Italian meal. We entered the restaurant with our with our crash helmets and leather jackets under our arms. We were given a quiet table in a corner at the back. The meal was good not only by the standards set at Marygate House but by those of other eating houses. After a very good fare we set off back to the island.
Under the watchful eye of the police we left the car park at Hexham. Taking first the 'A' road towards Newcastle, we turned off over the mountain road toward Rothbury and Alnwick. The road was dark and dangerous, it was night. A road sign warned us "93 accidents in the past 3 years, drive with caution unmarked police cars patrol here."
Drive with caution I did, as oncoming car headlights appeared and disappeared on the brow of every hill. I wound my way with care. Nonetheless, my wheels left the road as I rounded the crest of a humpbacked bridge. I drove through Rothbury and on to Alnwick where I picked up the A1. At this point I quickened the pace and we were shortly back in Lindisfarne, having caught the low tide. In all it was a 150 mile round trip.
Sunday 17th September 1989
Lindisfarne
Today we are off to the site an hour later than usual, on account of it being Sunday. We took a different route today "well at least most of us did" some went straight to the site. As for the rest of us we were taken on a grand but quick tour of the island's prehistoric sites and historic sites of interest.
Those of us on the tour were made up of people like myself who had arrived on the 9th and those who had arrived yesterday. Starting at St Cuthbert's Island, which is a small patch of rocky land that can be walked to at low tide, we were given a run down of Lindisfarne's Christian history.
Christianity came to Lindisfarne and Northumbria with St Aiden at the behest of King Oswald in the 7th century. Lindisfarne subsequently became the centre of Christianity in the north. St Aiden came from the monastery at Iona off the coast of Ireland.
From St Cuthbert's Island the priory can be seen. The priory is a later medieval building abutting onto it is the parish church. This is the likely site for the original monastery of St Aiden (churches are often built overlying previous places of worship.)
On St Cuthbert's Island there are a series of structures. Only one is obvious and is marked by a large cross. The rest have to be looked for to be noticed and appear on resistivity surveys. All of these sites are most likely associated with worship, but it is doubtful that they are directly related to St Cuthbert.
St Cuthbert was a local Anglo Saxon and a later Abbot of the monastery. Apparently, he was in the habit of praying to God waist high in cold sea water. After his death his body did not decompose (perhaps the result of working lifetime standing waist high in the frigid waters of the north sea.) However, this refusal to rot away at death was put down to his divine character. Other miracles were associated with this man.
From St Cuthbert's Island we walked back across the low tide to Lindisfarne and mounted the Heugh, a raised strip of land passing between the shore and the priory. We were about 30 feet high and stood observing the raised beach near the priory where the sea once long ago intruded, and to its east the present harbour. A number of buildings have been noticed along this strip of land upon which we now walked, from medieval to modern, some only marks in the grass, some with walls still standing. At the end of the Heugh there is a prehistoric midden, a rubbish dump used in the mesolithic.
From there we made our way to Green Shiel our own dig, passing on the way areas where scatters of mesolithic worked flints have been found. We also took into view the remnants of ridge and furrow farming, which Deirdre O'Sullivan and Dr Young will probably at some time investigate any likely connection to the current site under excavation.
At the dig I was beginning to develop a sore throat, and I thought it was the start of a bad cold. Despite this I stayed the full stretch until 6 o'clock.
During the evening I had a triple brandy ,no ice, and then went back to Marygate for the night to sleep.
Monday 18th September 1989
Lindisfarne
In bed today with a bad cold, trying with little success to sweat it out. Wayne and Dr Young who share the room have gone off to the dig. I am here in the hostel feeling glad that I do not have to brave the elements today.
As it happened, the dig ended early today due to high winds, which caused the sand to drift. During the evening I went down to the pub for another brandy before returning to bed.
Tuesday 19th September 1989
Lindisfarne
I feel a little better today. During my malady of yesterday I had nightmares whilst sleeping. Today the harsh edge has left me, though I still feel a little frail.
The day is a little blustery and I am on troweling. The airborne sand tends to blow into my eyes. With the dryness of the breeze I am careful not to allow my throat to dry out through unnecessary speech. Nothing of any note save a few bones came up today.
Wednesday 20th September 1989
Lindisfarne
Today we went to the site. The first part of the morning found me troweling a metre square on the outside of the north wall. The wind was strong and came in gusts. We are attempting to clean up the site for planning. Though, most of us on the north wall (context 304) were trying to get down to the facing stones. The sand was dry and the wind grew stronger. Each trowelful became wind borne halfway to the bucket. The sieves were just as unpleasant putting as much sand down the ears and in the hair as on the spoil heap. Eventually it was decided to call it a day "a pity really because it was another day lost."
I visited the museum today. I gave a guided tour to to an American woman. I had not been to the museum myself before. I was expounding to her that late medieval pottery was mostly green glazed. As we rounded the corner of the ceramic section there it was all brown glazed. there went my reputation for brilliance. She was looking for lodgings in Marygate House. She came with me because there was no one else about at the time. We returned eventually to Marygate and went our separate ways. The museum was worth the visit.
The rest of the day passed without noteworthy event.
Thursday 21st September 1989
Lindisfarne
A good day's work was had today. The square that was my patch yesterday finally yielded a facing stone at the bottom of the wall.
The walls are made up of two parallel lines of large stones, about two feet between and smaller stones in the middle. I extended my metre out another half metre to give a more substantial gap between the wall and the limit of the excavation. This was done to most of the north wall westward of my patch, which was mid-way on the wall.
By the time the afternoon came the work on the wall was well advanced. My area was completed and cleaned down. After our packed lunch the afternoon was spent planning/drawing the north wall. I managed about six square metres before the day was up. Anther chap 'Ian' who arrived last Saturday was planning the south wall, I'm afraid that he did not get very far with it. This was not surprising since it was his first time doing it. Paul, another archaeologist who shares a room with him says that Ian is fastidiously tidy and self disciplined. A top drawer chap.
Another styca came up today on Wayne's patch. This makes five on the site so far. Wayne will get a bottle of whiskey for this. A tradition on archaeological sites is; a bottle of whiskey goes to those who find coins. This particular coin is good because it turned up in a better context than the others (context 319 which is lower down on the site.)
The evening was quiet, uneventful but very pleasant. We returned home from the Northumberland Arms in the early hours of the morning.
Friday 22nd September 1989
Lindisfarne
Overcast sky and drizzle threatened the day's digging from the start. I was a quarter of an hour late for breakfast as was Wayne. This was probably due to the late night drinking last night. We soon made the time up by wolfing down our muesli and toast and washing it down with tea.
From the very beginning as I was filling up my flask I was plagued by the gyp, a sharp pain in the hip which is usually worst on damp mornings. I sometimes think it may be the beginnings of arthritis and I will finish up with a plastic and stainless one in my latter years. Dr Young says it is more likely sciatica. Either way it was most painful this morning. Though it improved a little as I worked on the site, it was with me for most of the day.
The dig was eventually rained off by constant drizzle and occasional very heavy downpours. This however, was not before I managed to get four more square metres planned. Ian was still on the same square metre as yesterday, having drawn six stones. There is no doubt that Ian works very hard and is very smart. It however, seems that draughting is not his cup of tea. Well there we are there are many things in my life that are not my cup of tea either, I certainly am not good at everything.
The dig ended when the rain stopped the sand going through the sieves. We adjourned at about 12'oclock.
At about 4 o'clock some of us went to Berwick in the department Land Rover with Deirdre and Dr Young. Wayne, Rob from London, Alan from Anglesey some of the girls and myself were to be found one wet Friday afternoon in Berwick searching for a bank vending machine. Only a few of us had our desires requited. Wayne could not find a National Westminster and remained cashless. After a spell in a café and a cup of coffee, Wayne, Rob, Alan and Myself had a wander on the eastern rampart of of Berwick castle. We shortly afterward all returned in the Land Rover to Lindisfarne.
Wayne received his bottle of whiskey after Dr Young and Deirdre stopped off at the co-op supermarket on the way back. Dr Young should also have received a bottle of whiskey on account of the fact that he also came up with a styca from the site today. He picked it up from the surface, it had probably been revealed by the rain.
The evening almost went with a bang tonight. A large group of us went down to the Northumberland Arms. In fact most of us archaeologists went down there including Deirdre O'Sullivan and Dr Young. Most of the girls were there too. I was sitting next to Ian, Wayne was opposite. Alan and Rob were also present. It was the last night on the island for some before they returned to the mainland.
The evening was going quite pleasantly when in through the door burst seven rowdy adolescents, in their late teens and early twenties, stripped down to their waists, drunk and badly behaved. It was not long before people started going home. Paul and the girl he had been chatting up went first, followed shortly by Dr Young and Deirdre O'Sullivan.
Ian sat there aghast as they threw beer and ice cubes around the pub and dropped their trousers. Their girlfriends joined in the fun allowing themselves to be mauled. Ian's presence there in the first place was most likely against his better judgment. He is a fundamentalist Christian, and the events of the evening so far had almost certainly confirmed his beliefs about the behavior of those who frequent public houses. Ian's effort to be sociable had surely ended beyond his worst imaginings, he said his good nights and left with both his dignity and person intact.
The rowdiness abated not at all. Two drunken aspiring middle class professionals, one male the other female, who had been propping up the bar for a few days, were looking decidedly threatened but stood their ground. If I had have been there with my fiancée I would have left taking her with me the moment they came through the door.
Actually I wanted to go but did not think it appropriate to leave a bunch of 18 year old girls (archaeology students from Leicester University) in this environment. It was 12 midnight and not unreasonable to leave on that ground alone. Actually, I was silently annoyed that the girls did not have the sense to leave.
Things got worse, egged on by each other they ran amok. Snatching beers off tables they threw them all over the place. My drink, which was by now my third, and only a half pint was amongst those taken. A substantial amount of it was thrown over Sarah one of the girls in our group. I stood to my feet immediately ready to fight as did Alan. I was assessing who to hit first. I was conscious that our crowd was dispersed. Both Alan and I were aware that we could get a good hammering here. We were also aware that we might win. Whilst we do not have a cavalier disregard for our own safety, both Alan and I were very annoyed and ready to take action as was Wayne.
Fortunately for everyone concerned the landlord was also on the scene. He quickly calmed them down, and they left followed by their womenfolk. However, it was not long before they were back. Though still a bit rowdy their behavior did not stem the previous depths. We spent the rest of the evening refusing to budge and leave because of them, things had gone too far at this point. We stayed until 3 o'clock in the morning, at which point the landlord threw everyone out.
Wayne and I went for a stroll to the coast before arriving at the room in Marygate. We awoke Dr Young who asked what time it was. I told him it was 3 when in fact it was 4 a.m.
© R.V. Maybery 1989 All rights reserved.