Another flint knapping
workshop at Butser Ancient Farm for me. I didn’t dig but the rest of the team
did. The following report was written by Jon:
“Shambles
/ˈʃamb(ə)lz/
noun
1. A state of confusion, bad organization, or untidiness, or something
that is in this state.
2. A butcher’s slaughterhouse
(archaic except in place names).
3. Five diggers at Halloween
Rift on Saturday 15th June 2019.
The usual call to action is via a text-based messaging system
(e-mail). This week, attempts were made to circumvent this and use
instead a text-based messaging system (SMS). Four members of the team
(Tav, Nick, Duncan and Jon) assembled at the appointed hour. A fifth
member (Paul) sent a message to indicate he was running late.
The team patiently waited and, after further reference to the
messaging system, waited some more. Finally giving up on the latecomer,
the team moved on to the farm, to be met by the latecomer. For his sins,
he was appointed hut warden.
With echoes of past failures, the team set out without a
key. A Sage Elder saved the day; a runner was despatched to get
one. Fortunately, a second team member also went back and got the correct
key.
Effort was directed at the Cold Gnarly North, with Paul in the
lead. Nick took the wet spot, in his lake. Tav hauled at the
corner, a position gaining a reputation for being cold and miserable.
Duncan and Jon hauled and stacked at the entrance. 44 bags of spoil and
11 loads of rock were removed. Paul reports that this was largely loose
spoil that had previously been stacked along the sides of the passage.
The team learnt from their earlier mistakes and made sure that
they finished on time. They then retired to a local hostelry for liquid
refreshment…
…or rather, three team members did. Those who had manned the
wetter, colder positions went straight home.”