The Experimental Archaeology Adventure Part 5: Books, Boats and Other Stuff

by thehistoryinterpreter

‘So, what’s the latest on the experimental archaeology front?’ I hear you cry. I’ve still not grasped the nettle and tried making stinging nettle string (see what I did there?). Plenty more reading about boat archaeology though, plus trying not to dwell on the impending feedback on the first assignment. I had to miss one of my tutorials when I was away, so was watching the recording. The Irish accents play even more havoc than usual with the subtitling, which has an entertainment value all of its own. Who knew that Medieval Ireland had a camel based economy? ‘Smell fairies’, was an interesting response to a question about average iron smelting times.

Each week we get a ‘what’s on at the university this week’ email. This is frustrating because there is a plethora of fascinating sounding activities that I am too far away to access. A couple of weeks ago, we were exhorted to attend Sexual Health and Guidance week. This series of events is referred to by its acronym – I’ll give you a moment to think about that. You have to commend them for attention grabbing marketing. As the email said, “this is sure to be a fun-filled and informative week.”

I was chuffed to find a second-hand copy of a book I needed for £3.84, when most copies were £20+. The downside is that the estimated delivery date is the day before my assignment is due. In theory it has already been dispatched from within the UK, no idea why this means it will be a month before I get it. Are they perhaps sending it by a particularly circuitous route? Are they employing super-slow carrier pigeons? Time will tell. The book has 250 or so pages. I will have twenty four hours to read it – good job I can speed read. Whilst looking for a copy of this book I got one of those ‘you may be interested in this’, emails. I always give a wry smile when these recommendations are my own books. In this case it was a series of manuscript volumes, which did indeed sound interesting but were priced at £128,068.55. Might give that a miss.

I am desperately trying to work out how best to be in Ireland in March for a week of real life experimental archaeology fun. We had a month long trip to Ireland planned for May 2020. No prizes for guessing why that didn’t happen. I don’t have a whole month free in March and anyway I am not convinced that March is the best time of year to explore Ireland. Options are being considered. Do we go twice, taking the caravan, which will give me somewhere to stay, albeit a bit further from the university than is ideal? Do I fly out on my own in March just for the week? Not sure ‘on my own’ appeals. It may depend on whether or not caravan sites are going to be open that early in the year.

I also need to say that this wonderful course that I am doing is now accepting applications for the next academic year. It really is great fun and the assessment side is comparatively ‘gentle’. Although archaeology conjours up visions of ancient civilizations and there is an element of that, there are opportunities to look at more recent manifestations of material culture (that’s ‘things’ to you and me). All my family historian friends out there, do take a look. I’m enjoying this course so much. You can really begin to understand about the homes your ancestors lived in, the boats that they sailed, the clothes that they wore and the artefacts that they made or owned. It is all online and open to students across the world. Even better, if you are looking for a face-to-face university course, or know any young people who are keen on studying the past, there are in-person undergraduate and post-graduate opportunities available in the same department. If I had the wherewithal to spend a year in Ireland, I’d be up for that. Sadly, this wasn’t an option when I was looking for undergraduate university courses.

From University College Dublin website

Thoughts on All Hallows Eve

by thehistoryinterpreter

So today is All Hallows Eve. Amidst all the pumpkin carving and tricking and treating, I would like to think about all those who lost their lives and in some parts of the world, are still losing their lives, due to accusations of witchcraft. For the most part, these were unfortunate women (and a few men), often elderly and on the margins of society, who fell foul of the prejudices and intolerance of their neighbours. Sadly, it seems to be human nature to be wary of difference. Is this because we can only cope with threat if we believe it to come from someone ‘not like us’? Are threats are harder to bear if we feel that they come from within our own circle, whether that be geographical, racial or social? My fascination with human behaviour and the history of the marginalised, naturally led me to take a detailed look at witchcraft accusations. A general study for the chapter in Coffers, Clysters, Comfrey and Coifs led to my talk The Burning Time. The parallels between witchcraft accusations and modern bullying are powerful and to highlight these I chose to weave the story that became my novel Sins as Red as Scarlet, setting the true story of witchcraft accusations in Bideford against a strand set in 2020. As I tried to make sense of why three women from Bideford were put to death in 1682, I quickly realised that the seeds of this tragedy had roots that stretched back decades. Whilst on the subject of Sins as Red as Scarlet, I’d like to thank Hidden Branch for this lovely review. It is gratifying to realise that readers understand where I was heading with the book.

So, as you don your witch’s hat, please think about those in your own family history, or from your home area who might have suffered persecution in the past. Apart from the six women who are mentioned in my novel, to give them their real names Temperance Lloyd, Susanna Edwards, Mary Trembles, Elizabeth Caddy, Mary Beare and Grace Elliott, there are others I will be remembering. Not least is Joane Elford, acquitted of ‘laming and pining’ Alice Paynter in 1671. She is almost certainly the sister of my 9 times great-grandfather Peter Elford. I tell the story of the Elford family here but there are very few details available about Joane.

If you want to read Sins as Red as Scarlet, it is available on line but as usual, if you are in the UK, I urge you to come directly to me, to my publisher Blue Poppy Publishing or to your nearest independent bookshop. Happy Halloween.

The Experimental Archaeology Adventure Part 4: Boat building, WhatsApping and Stinging Nettles

by thehistoryinterpreter

Well assignment one is submitted, not without incident owing to the rat-induced wifilessness and with thoughts turning to assignment two I am immersing myself in tales of boat reconstructions. In a completely different context (I was looking for potential speakers about Cornish fishing) I happened across an exciting boat-building workshop in Falmouth. It was even free! There were only twelve places and I thought, no way will there be any vacancies but I applied and am super excited to announce that a boat restorer of my acquaintance and I will duly be getting up at very silly o’clock to spend a day in Falmouth. We had to provide names of next of kin on the booking form; should I be worried about this?

My fellow students and I decided we wanted a space to chat and moan and I stupidly suggested WhatsApp, as some weren’t keen on Facebook. Somehow this meant that I had ‘volunteered’ to set the group up. What I know about WhatsApp would fit on an extremely small postage stamp. I am the person with only seven contacts on my phone, two of whom I have never contacted. After a steep learning curve and with help from Martha, the group was established and there’s a lot of sharing of baking triumphs going on. As regular readers will know, I am genetically programmed to be a non-baker, so I can’t contribute to this, although it will soon be time for my once yearly baking foray as I make the Christmas cake.

We were also asked to pay the balance for our course. I think that worked but there is a great kerfuffle about the accompanying request for particular format pdf confirmation of previous qualifications, which none of us seem to be able to obtain. The alternative is ‘bring your certificates in in person’ (like that’s going to work), or to use a verification service that costs £40, which we are trying to avoid.

Having decided that growing, or even purchasing, hemp from which to make rope might be a bit dodgy and being right out of lime bast (no I didn’t know what that was either), I have been watching videos of using stinging nettles to make string. This does not seem to be without hazard but may be worth a go – easier than baking anyhow.

Now to seek out some sufficiently tall stinging nettles and wait with trepidation for the assignment feedback.

Island Adventures and What Came Next

by thehistoryinterpreter

I’ve just returned from a short stay on the Isle of Wight. Let’s just say that internet access was of the ‘five unbroken minutes is a positive’ variety. Phone signal involved standing on one leg on the balcony with the phone held aloft, hence the radio silence. Mind you, it was better off than being at home where rats eating through cables knocked out all internet connection in three villages for five days.

It is always good to return to the island, where I lived for nearly thirty years. Getting on the ferry was a challenge as we arrived to be told we weren’t booked. After enquiring, it turns out that the holiday park hadn’t cancelled our car and caravan booking (despite cancelling our ability to bring the caravan and swapping us to a chalet instead). The ticket collector was obviously wondering if he should ask us if we realised that we’d mislaid the caravan.

Most of the holiday was spent enjoying the company of Edward, along with his mum and dad. Adult activities included hot-tubbing and board game playing. We explored the delights of the Blackgang Chine’s dinosaurs and dodos. Not sure for how many more years I will be able to clamber across the scramble nets. My first visit to the chine was over sixty years ago, when there was considerably more of it; it has been badly hit by landslips. At that time, it lacked the theme-park activities that it now boasts but it was still a must-see place to go. We played crazy-golf, we built sandcastles and poured two pence pieces into ravenous arcade machines. I drove past the first house that I purchased and was shocked to realise that it is forty years since I lived there! Surely the 1980s are practically last week. Minus Edward, which is probably as well for the sake of the china, we visited Osborne House for the umpteenth time. I was pleased to find that there is a positive correlation between English Heritage visitors and mask-wearing, ferry travellers less so.

Then home to the inevitable catching up. I’ve just written a three-volume novel that is the list of things to do before Christmas, currently standing at 117 tasks. There are three big speaking engagements on the horizon, as well as many other presentations for audiences from Devon to New Zealand, the latter sadly only virtually. I am looking forward to chatting about how the world of genealogy can become more accommodating across the age range as part of The Really Useful Show. Next up will be three presentations for THE Genealogy Show and I’ve just heard that I will have to tackle the learning curve that is recording two presentations for next year’s Rootstech.

A few things to report that have been crossed off the to-do list. I complied a list of best genealogical mystery novels for a Best Books website. I’ve also got an article on the Civil War hot on the presses of Who do You Think You Are? Magazine. Oh, and nothing to do with the to do list but I have Commonwealth Games tickets, only one set but I guess that’s a bonus for the bank balance. Now back to the course reading, of which more in a separate post.

The Experimental Archaeology Adventure Part 3: Book Buying and Making Plans

by thehistoryinterpreter

I have been so busy actually doing my experimental archaeology course that there hasn’t been time to wite about it. It is fascinating and I am having great fun with a group of mostly matureish students from seven different countries, with an intriguing range of backgrounds and experiences. So far (this is week 3), we have introduced ourselves and the course, looked at the changing definitions of experimental archaeology and thought about reconstructing houses. Interesting that when an Iron Age house burns down the roof falls in and then the walls collapse on top, meaning that future archaeologists will excavate the structure walls first and then roof. Never say you don’t learn anything from reading my ramblings. Next stop pottery.

A few technical issues, such as repeated emails urging me to collect my student ID card from  room whatever, which is in …..… Dublin. Wondering how my fellow students from Australia and the US will go about this. Then, having ordered a book in time to take on holiday, randomly I get an email from the dreaded online bookseller saying there had been a problem with delivery and it was being returned. I am roughly translating this as ‘we couldn’t find your house and couldn’t be bothered to ask’. Or even ‘I wanted to be home early and couldn’t be bothered to drive to the wilds of nowhere on a wet afternoon.’ Annoying but I implemented plan B and have now got the book and a message thanking me for returning the book I didn’t want to return and assuring me that I will be refunded in the next week. Most of the reading is available to us electronically, although I do prefer paper and I have the beginnings of a library appearing now.

I am currently immersed in the first assignment, a study of the different definitions of experimental archaeology. Essay writing seems to take much longer than it did in the 1970s, maybe because I am more of a perfectionist now. Ok – or maybe just because I am old. I am also already looking ahead to assignment two which requires us to critique experimental archaeology projects on a similar theme. It is suggested that we might like to link this to our work in the final term, when we have to make something. Thinking of my own interests, I have ruled out experimenting with bewitching people – not sure that would get past the ethics committee. I could make some herbal remedies but the fun would be in testing them and I am not sure that would go down well either. So, do I do something girly and get my spinning wheel out (I really must do some spinning when I have time – try about 2024)? In a continuation of my post mid-life crisis, I am now going rogue. I have suggested to a fisherman (and boat-restorer) of my acquaintance that we might like to build a coracle in the garden. He has long been trying to persuade me to build a garage (people who know my house and garden are now questioning how on earth that would work – it wouldn’t) and I think he was keen on the boat idea thinking it might require a garage to put it in. Ok, so a boat could be a tad ambitious, it seems to involve lots of animal skins that might be difficult, not to say expensive, to acquire. Maybe fishing nets or fish traps though….. My search history now contains some slightly dodgy sites as a result of me searching for ‘where to buy hemp’.

Down South

by thehistoryinterpreter

Two days at home, two presentations given and now we have also spent a couple of days in South Devon, primarily to attend a Fisherman’s Friends concert. This was an adventure in itself as it marked our first venture indoors with a crowd of people. We had been warned by the venue that we would need vaccination certificates, or evidence of recent negative lateral flow tests to be let in, which was reassuring. I did wonder if we really would have to produce these but yes, long queues were already amassing outside the theatre thirty minutes before the concert started. Everyone’s status was checked and people were being turned away or provided with tests. I wish there was more of this sort of thing. As a bonus we got inside before the rain started. I was planning on wearing a mask throughout but I just couldn’t see. As we were in the front row, we weren’t too hemmed in so I decided to go without, along with 95% of the audience.

While we were down south we took the opportunity to visit Stover Country Park. We managed to dodge the showers and do some more experimenting with the new camera. We also went to Compton Castle but were less lucky with the weather here. It is a small but fascinating National Trust property. The Medieval house was the property of the Compton family. It was transferred to the Gilberts through marriage in 1329 and the house was enlarged in the 1450s and fortified in 1520. This is the family of Sir Humphrey Gilbert the explorer who sailed to Newfoundland in 1583, two years before his half-brother Walter Raleigh attempted to set up a colony on Roanoke. The Gilberts also helped to establish a settlement in Maine. The family had moved to Bodmin by 1800 and Compton was sold. Its extensive acreage was farmed but the building fell into ruin, with only the chapel retaining its roof. By a twist of fate, the house was reacquired by the Gilberts in 1931 and fully restored. It is still lived in today. There was plenty of heraldry on display and costumed interpreters in the rooms. We also spotted some Harry Juniper pottery form Bideford. Now a full on couple of weeks of presenting before our final trip of the year.

Workhouses, Priories and so to Home

by thehistoryinterpreter

The next outing was to Gressenhall Workhouse and Farm. The workhouse opened in 1777 and catered for the poor of the hundreds of Mitford and Launditch; previously, each parish had provided for its own paupers. This pre-dated the Gilbert Act, which advocated parishes combining to provide for the poor. Known as the Mitford and Launditch Incorporation House of Industry it was described as a ‘pauper’s palace’. Subsequent masters of the workhouse, particularly after the Poor Law Amendment Act of 1834, took a rather different view and implemented the principle that life inside the workhouse should not be preferable to life outside. The workhouse was converted to an old people’s home in 1948 and closed as an institution in 1975.

I was particularly impressed with the telling of the stories of real people associated with the workhouse. There was a compelling sampler on view, stitched by an inmate, Lorina Bulmer. The ‘stream of consciousness’ words give some indication of her mental state. A reconstructed 1950s home brought back memories.

There is also an extensive rural heritage museum, with many farming artefacts on display. Across the road, we walked round the farm that was once worked by inmates. We got out feet wet walking through the long grass to say hello to the Suffolk Punch heavy horses.

The next day and we set off to Thetford, to look at the priory, founded by Roger Bigod in the early years of the twelfth century. It was a Cluniac foundation until the dissolution, eventually falling into disrepair. It is also the burial place of Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk, who was a commander at the Battle of Flodden. We spotted a muntjac deer, unfortunately too far away for the Zoomless camera to photograph. Next our pre-booked session at the Ancient House Museum in Thetford, or, as it turned out, not. After a bit of banging on the door marked ‘closed’ it turned out that they were unable to open due to staff shortages. We couldn’t rearrange as our holiday was almost at an end so we returned to the site and walked through the forest instead. I have to say that the museum was very swift about refunding our entrance fee.

So to home and being thankful that the delays on the M5 were less serious in our direction than they appeared to be for those leaving the West Country. Fortunately, we managed to get the fuel needed to get us home in Bristol as, by the time we reached Barnstaple and Bideford, garages were either closed or had ridiculous queues as people unnecessarily began panic buying fuel.

Update on the injuries/damage. I now have a fully working camera, body not so much. One hand is healing nicely, the other is still a bit grim, one knee has an impressive bruise and my ribs are ‘interesting’. Still, I now have thirteen talks to give in eighteen days, which will take my mind off it!

Not the Best Couple of Days

by thehistoryinterpreter

Another day of ancestral church visiting, this time in the vicinity of Great Yarmouth. Having driven through a torrential storm, we arrived at our first church, Stokesby, in the sunshine. This is a thatched church pretty much in the middle of nowhere. Next stop Filby. The inhabitants of Filby are obviously gunning for a Britain in Bloom title and boy do they deserve it. I think that every begonia in the country must now be in Filby in a very impressive display.

As we weren’t far away, we decided to call in to Caistor. In some inexplicable manner, I managed to leave a fair amount of skin on a sand-covered concrete walkway by the beach. No idea how or why I left the vertical but it was a spectacular five point landing, two palms, one forearm, one knee and my ribs. This sounds impossible to achieve but achieve it I did. I even managed to escape with just a small scratch on the casing of the new camera (see below). Ouch was a rough translation of what I said. As I was now dripping blood fairly dramatically, we returned to the car and I attempted to wash my wounds in some handy toilets. Not actually in the toilet, that would not be hygienic, although urine is of course a steriliser. In this case it may have been more effective as the taps required me to press down with my palm, which was injured, in order for a meagre trickle of water to appear. Never fear, there will be a first-aid kit in the car. Indeed there is a first-aid kit in more than one car in our possession, just not this car. I wonder if facemasks, of which I have several in my bag, might be adapted for the purpose of staunching wounds. In the end large, cleanish handkerchiefs managed to stop me dripping gore over the car for the journey home. Glad I have never taken to tissues.

We abandoned the idea of going into Great Yarmouth itself and a final church on the itinerary was elusive due to a diversion that basically had us going round in circles. The journey home was also hampered by a twenty minute delay due to roadworks.

Having washed half a beach out of my hands, we went for a short walk in the forest, following the ‘Desert Rat Trail’, with interpretation boards telling the story of the Desert Rats who were stationed here in World War Two. An evening meeting, the sixth in the eight days that I have been away, reminds me that I really should look up the definition of ‘holiday’.

With my left hand still oozing interestingly and a distinct pain in my side, suggesting that all may not be hunky dory in the rib department, we nonetheless set off for Pensthorpe Natural Park. This is a great place to photograph birds. It was also where I realised that the damage to the new camera was a little more extensive that I hoped. The Zoom function no longer works and the camera automatically shuts down with a ‘lens error’. So the bird photography left a little to be desired but we still had a lovely day wandering round the site at a pace that my ribs would allow. There was a good array of woodland birds on display, as well as the wildfowl. Pensthorpe have a breeding programme for red squirrels, which are then released in the wild on Anglesey, where competition from grey squirrels is not a problem.

Back in the van, I unsuccessfully try a few self-help suggestions for rectifying lens errors, refraining from the more invasive, which basically seem to come down to hitting it. Just to add to the not going brilliantly theme, we receive an email to say that our October caravan holiday has been cancelled due to work on the site. We manage to come up with a more expensive and less convenient alternative. Still worse things happen at sea, as they say. Not sure who ‘they’ are and it is a pretty stupid expression but I am well aware that many people are worse off than I am. Onwards and Upwards!

Anglo Saxons and other Adventures

by thehistoryinterpreter

More walking in the footsteps of ancestors as we head off to visit parishes on the outskirts of Norwich. One of these turned out to be right in the centre of the city, involving us in getting to grips with a multi-storey carpark, where, randomly, you had to go to the top floor to pay for you ticket before departure. We didn’t stay any longer than was necessary as our dislike of spending time in cities was confirmed.

In the afternoon, we went for a walk in Brandon Country Park, much more our sort of thing. This, like our caravan site, is part of the ‘Brecks’, or Brecklands, characterised by heathland. In the Country Park a large area of forest has been cleared to reinstate a heathland landscape. When Brandon Park Estate was purchased by Edward Bliss in 1820 it was devoid of trees and he set about introducing a wide variety of native and non-native species, planting eight million trees in just six months. His wealth came from the manufacture of gunflint, which was in high demand during the Napoleonic Wars, although the industry declined rapidly in peacetime. Bliss was able to use unemployed gunflint workers to plant his trees. His mausoleum is situated in the park but the remains of Bliss and his wife were moved to the local churchyard when the estate changed hands. I managed to spot a mandarin duck amongst the mallards hiding in the reeds.

I’d planned a visit to West Stow Anglo-Saxon Village, together with some of my descendants, before I knew it was going to be mentioned in my new course. The course itself is continuing professional development; does this mean the entrance fee is tax-deductible? We had a lovely day involving performing feats of daring on the adventure playground, well for some of us at least. We investigated the reconstructed Anglo-Saxon houses, uncovered archaeological finds and looked at an astounding array of locally excavated artefacts. It was a shame there were no Anglo-Saxon historical interpreters to add to the experience but it was well worth a visit nonetheless.

There were some Napoleonic re-enactors in the shape of the 95th rifles on site, which did seem rather out of period but gave some of our party the opportunity to compare musket firing experiences. We followed the Beowulf and Grendel trail; coincidentally one of the younger members of our party had been learning about the story in school. We also walked round the lake but this was a bit underwhelming, as it is geared up for angling rather than enjoying lakeside views, which were intermittent at best. There was a group clearing reeds from the river and examining the river quality. The had caught some non-native crayfish, which were a cause for concern.

All in all it was an excellent day and the lovely weather was a bonus.

In a change to the planned itinerary, we called in at Grime’s Graves. We’ve been passing the brown sign to it on our travels and having looked it up, it sounded worth a visit, especially as it was only four miles away. This is the site of an early C20th rubbish tip but also a Neolithic flint mine. So it seemed like a good idea to continue our early history theme from yesterday. The mine was in operation from 2600-2300 BCE, about the time that Stonehenge was being constructed. As bronze and iron began to replace flint for tools, the mines which are between six and twelve metres deep, were used for burials. The miners used antler picks and scapulas as shovels. The flint axe heads, arrow heads and knives were ceremonial and symbolic as well as functional. The name ‘Grimes’ comes from the Anglo Saxon god Grim, another name for Woden. In Anglo Saxon times, the site was important as an administrative meeting point but its Medieval use was as a rabbit warren.

We started by looking at the explanatory interpretation boards. Michael Rosen had written some powerful poetry about the site. Then it was time to descend the mine. We were equipped with token hard hats but as there was no under chin fastening, I am not sure what good they would have done if we’d fallen down the mine. I have no idea what part of me decided that it was a good idea for someone who really doesn’t like heights and isn’t too keen on enclosed spaces to descend twelve metres (it felt like about two hundred) down an almost vertical metal ladder but descend we did. Even my companion isn’t super keen on being underground. I ensured there was photographic evidence and then returned to the surface pretty swiftly.

Then back to the itinerary and a drive to the coast at Blakeney. We managed to avoid following the sat-nav to Blakeney in Gloucestershire. It was convinced it must be that one we wanted as we’d been there earlier in the year. Blakeney is noted for its bird life. Despite a calf-killing walk across shingle for a mile or so, all we saw were a few seagulls.

On to look at Sheringham, where I visited as a child. There seemed to be some kind of 1940s fiesta going on, with plenty of people in period costume, including an impressive scout troop, complete with appropriate uniforms. We also saw the heritage steam train pass by. Another drive through Cromer, this time in the sun and then it was time to turn for home. The forecast rain began to materialise but we managed to stop off at a church to look for a tomb for one of my students. Sadly, although the family were well represented, the one we sought was elusive.

Mostly about Birds

by thehistoryinterpreter

We drove northwards, passing a large field full of pig arcs and hundreds of pigs. We also passed Sandringham estate but decided not to call in. It was interesting to see several sunflower fields. As we travelled along roads in the middle of nowhere much, I was reminded how much I enjoy following along on an OS map. We began our series of stops along the north Norfolk coast at Shepherd’s Port, near Snettisham. Here we found an RSPB reserve that had been created from a former gravel pit. Accessing the obligatory parking ticket was a challenge. Parking was free for RSPB members. I pressed the appropriate button, expecting to have to input my membership number or perhaps scan my card. I was hoping it wouldn’t be the latter as I have a ten year old life membership card, which doesn’t have any kind of scanability function. After much button pressing and card waving, it turned out that it was sufficient just to say you were a member; there was no necessity to prove it. I wonder how many people abuse that system?

This stop was the opportunity for a pleasant walk but not a great deal of wildlife. There were definite signs of autumn. Not only are the leaves and bracken tinged with rust but rosehips, elderberries and blackberries dot the hedgerows. We worked our way through Heacham, Hunstanton and Holme to Brancaster. Not on foot I hasten to add; our days of longer distance walking are over. On the way we passed a sign to another RSPB reserve, complete with car park full notices. Having turned round at Brancaster we decided to ignore the car park full signs and see if this was indeed so. It wasn’t. We availed ourselves of one of several free parking spaces and set off to explore Titchwell Marshes. Here we found birds a-plenty and an opportunity to try the 50x Zoom on my new camera. I discovered just how many photographs of a far distant, swimming avocet with his head underwater it is possible to take before getting one with his beak showing. The answer is a lot. My camera does have a rapid-fire function somewhere, which might have helped, I just need time to read the 186 page manual.

The next day it was off to another RSPB reserve, this time at Lakenheath. After taking the ‘pretty route’ – ok we got slightly lost – we set off to explore. A lovely four or five mile walk round the reserve was worth every step when we found a kingfisher posing so I could photography it. Less success seeing bitterns, cranes and otters, all of which frequent the reserve but I’ll settle for the kingfisher and a quick fly past by the bearded tits.

We returned to the van early so I could attend the first lecture of my experimental archaeology course, now I am really excited, definitely worth missing half a day of the holiday! More of that in its own post.