I am not sure which is more experimental, the archaeology or the adventure. Before I wrote Barefoot on the Cobbles it was a toss up between writing a novel and doing an experimental archaeology course and back in 2016, I opted for the former, which was at least cheaper! Two novels on and I was all set to begin novel number three. I had an idea (I still do) but it just wasn’t working. Time, thinks I, to put it to one side and return to the experimental archaeology course idea. This may well ensure that the creative novel three juices begin to reflow any time about now. Of course, in the intervening five years the world has changed. Despite all the awfulness, I now had more scope because there were courses that I could attend virtually. I looked for possibilities and came up with what seemed to be just what I wanted, at University College, Dublin. To be honest the course details were sketchy in the extreme but it specifically mentioned that it was suitable for historical interpreters, so I decided to take the plunge.

The first hurdle was circumnavigating the online applications process. Not hugely difficult but I needed an academic reference at a time when all universities were effectively closed. I also needed it quickly as it seemed that it was pretty much a ‘first come first served’ for suitable applicants. Not only was it the Easter vacation but everyone was working from home. It was also more than ten years on from my PhD, would anyone remember who I was? After a few phone calls and emails, I finally secured a reference that implied that I might be capable of Postgraduate level study.

Shortly after, I was given a place and began to wonder quite what I had let myself in for; it was still all a bit of a mystery. There were a couple of introductory Zooms over the summer. I ‘met’ the professor responsible for the course and he seemed to be my sort of person. I lurched between excitement, sheer terror and putting it to the back of my mind.

Then, this week, it all began to take off. I had several generic emails telling me how to stay safe on campus and explaining about all the great activities that I could take part in, or of course, not, in my case. It was time to formally register. This was mostly straightforward but I needed the dreaded passport photo. This came with all the usual, plain background, don’t wear a hat, don’t look sideways, don’t have your hair in front of your face and worst of all, don’t have a reflection in your glasses, instructions. I didn’t have anything remotely suitable but fortunately Martha was on hand to produce something that, for a passport type photo of someone who is 100% not photogenic, actually looked half decent. I tried to upload it. Error message. ‘Your photo must be less than 50KB. Hmmm that is really pretty small. I tried taking a screen shot of the 2.5MB photo. Ah, that was considerably smaller but still 62KB. The registration paged offered the option of an online photo size reducing thingy. Now I looked like something out of a hall of mirrors. A few more attempts and success. Now I am waiting to see if it meets with approval; it had better, as this is as good as it gets. Next, I have to decide if I want to give my parents access to my academic record. I am tempted to say yes but decide that might be tricky as they’ve been dead for 56 and 10 years.

Finally, I get a summary of the three modules that make up the course. Now I am really excited. Fortunately, they look brilliant, especially ‘Crafts, Making and Storytelling’, which comes in the summer trimester (or term as we English say – trimester sounds like I am pregnant). I also have a shiny new academic email address to add to the many that I already have. I wonder if we get to keep it post course. I have now had academic email addresses in two different countries, which is weirdly thrilling.

No book list yet, which will be the next excitement. In anticipation of needing extra shelf space and cash to purchase the new books, Martha has been helping me with a book cull. If anyone wants some heraldry books at bargain prices please get in touch.#

I may be a bit stuck for pictures for this series of posts but here I am being vaguely experimental. No, no idea why it looks like I am praying.