Hey Blog! Recently, I have been doing a lot of studies, and so I have some more English to share with you. This is for two reasons: firstly because the prompt was to write a dialogue between a character called Kaito and his grandmother about taking a selfie, while my own grandparents are coming to see us soon; and secondly because Mum annotated at the end of it, “That’s brilliant! I hope you get that writing prompt in the exam!” which suggests what I did was good. I hope you like it too.
“No, Grandma, you tap this button here, see? This one reverses the way the photo’s pointing; it takes one of you, not the door!” Kaito said. “There, and… snap, picture taken!”
His grandmother was getting a little flustered. “Deary me, they never used to be so complicated. This one here, you said, darling?” she asked, pressing the button.
A pair of virtual reindeer horns appeared on Kaito’s grandmother’s head on the phone screen. “Ahhh! What is it?” she shrieked, a hand patting her head to try and feel the horns. “What did it do?”
“Grandma, that’s the setting which alters your filters. There are hundreds. You could grow a beard… or wear a fancy hat. Once you’ve taken a selfie, you can edit it. I’ll show you where you can find them on your own phone.” Kaito was eager to help. “Where is it?”
“I don’t use it much, love. It’s in that drawer on the sideboard,” Grandma said. “There, in the case with flowers on.”
“I can’t see a phone, Grandma. All you’ve got is this,” Kaito said, pulling out a Nokia brick. “How long have you had this? It looks like the dinosaurs used it.”
“That’s the phone, duck. A bit old these days, but a great comfort when your grandfather was away. I could text him every day on that.” Kaito’s grandmother was evidently surprised by Kaito’s reaction, for she said, “What’s the matter dear? I thought you knew how to work phones?”
“This… isn’t a phone, Grandma,” answered Kaito. “I’m not sure what it is, but there’s no camera on here. It doesn’t even have a search function, no internet whatsoever. All there is are a few funny numbers.”
“Those will be my passcodes, dear. The rest of the Secret Service still used paper, but I was one of the very first who had it digital.” Kaito’s grandmother seemed immensely proud. “We’d soon live in a Digital World, they said. And I was a pioneer! To think of it. But have you got the photo Apple-cation or what you said working?”
“You were in the Secret Service, Grandma?!” Kaito exclaimed. “When?”
“Not was, dear, but am. They’ve never dismissed me yet,” Kaito’s grandmother continued. “In fact, they sent a message a few days ago. Wanted me to learn how to take a selfie. Photo evidence, you see. Good way of staying undercover, yet getting the tabs on those you want to watch.” Grandma sighed. “Shall we get on with it then, dear?”
N.B. relation to Kaitos, Grandmas, and the Secret Service completely coincidental. No fictional characters in this piece are based on real people, least of all my own grandmother!
Hey Blog! This week, I thought I would start reviewing some of the books needed for my English Literature GCSE next year. There will be a series of these, but this is the first instalment – and covers a book by Robert Louis Stevenson, which has since become widely known in popular culture: The strange case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
I only read the book for the first time this week. However, I had already been aware of the author. Only a few weeks ago, I mentioned Treasure Island, another of his books, and I have also read his A Child’s Garden of Verses. Unrelated to the inventor of the steam engine (though many, including me, have made that mistake!) Stevenson had a difficult childhood and so took to novels as a way to get out of reality. I sometimes most of the time do something similar. But while Treasure Island is a tale of adventure, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde is more of a crime drama-cross-science fiction – even though it would be some years before the latter genre took off with H. G. Wells’ The War of the Worlds.
The plot opens with the introduction of Utterson, a lawyer and the principal protagonist. It also begins an anecdote of an encounter with one Mr. Edward Hyde, delivered from Utterson’s friend Enfield. Quickly, the story moves to a dark crime drama of a will, a murder, and a hunt for suspects in the back streets of London. However, still darker turns are yet to come, as Henry Jekyll’s personality shifts and Edward Hyde’s appearances grow
The novel popularised the idea of the split personality, and is a part of the wider gothic style, popular in the 1800s. It was seen as a cheap “shilling shocker”, a quickly written short read at the time, but has since had a large impact. The idea of a villain who can transform, shifting from the outwardly respectable figure on the side of good, to the sinister figure of darkness who scares the living daylights out of the protagonist – and anyone watching the movie or reading the book – has since been seen in almost every genre and type of plotline. It certainly makes for a good story.
And talking of darkness and light, that is another of the central themes of the story. The amount of times those words, or synonyms for good and evil, are mentioned highlights the dual-natured personality of Jekyll and Hyde. It hints at the war within the character, and between the characters. Intertwined in this good-v-bad is a science-v-religion conflict, where the philosophical beliefs of consciousness are tampered with by the technical application of chemistry and biology. The dedication, too, includes a note on this – “it’s ill to loose the bands that God decreed to bind”. All this was very in keeping with the burgeoning scientific advances and ethical questions being raised at the time.
The duality of human nature – or triality, or even more, as Henry Jekyll states at the end – is one of the other focuses of the novel. The other side of this is a social respectability facet. Even Mr. Hyde, alone among all people in being solely bad, wants to avoid pariah status, showing a complex idea of what it is to be evil. The secret lives of all the characters make the story a twisty one, which, while knowing Hyde is the villain, leaves everyone guessing who Hyde is. Although, if you just look at the title, you know immediately. Should have just done that first.
I think, in all, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is an interesting and excellent read. I certainly find Stevenson easier to understand than Dickens, who was writing about the same time. For content, I think it is an amazing and original exploration of sci-fi, body-changing, dark crime, and horror, all with a fairly confidant tone: perfect for a 1800s short novel, ideal to be adapted and adopted over the next century. I will continue to study it and it is a firm possibility for the exam next year!
Hey Blog! A few weeks back I went out to do some surveying and evaluation of archaeology which could help in a project I am helping in in the future!
Remember in February I spoke at an event in London on behalf of Derbyshire Scout Archaeology? I somehow managed to impress one of the people from Heritage England who had been invited to come and see what the youth groups had done, and he gave me an opportunity to help coach the Police Cadets through a heritage project, as a joint attempt between Scouts and Cadets. As part of the plan, I would be assisting Cadets to photograph and record monuments and provide local, anecdotal evidence and backstory to these historical remains. This would be added to a record, the National Heritage List for England, or NHLE. The planning is well under way, so this may make an appearance on HEIAS soon. However, as practice for the surveying, I was invited by some members of the DSA team to help record archaeological features on the National Trust grounds at Thorpe, near Ilam, in the Peak District.
I used to go to the hall at Ilam for Young Archaeologists’ Club, but as our base moved during covid I am now unfamiliar with the area. The surrounding land, Thorpe Pasture, has a plethora of features ranging in date from Romano-British settlement (unexcavated and uncertain, but very likely) to mediaeval ridge-and-furrow ploughing, to modern rifle range and targets. These are all recorded on a database, and require regular checking to determine whether they are in a poor state or state of decay. This work is all voluntary, and since it might help me with the recording of the built heritage for the Heritage England project, I was invited to join a trip to re-check their condition and practice identifying features. We left early in the morning.
Driving to the area and walking onto the pasture, it was immediately obvious that there would be a lot of historical remains. Everywhere we looked, there were “features” – the general term for a lump, bump, hole, stone, or other remain of a previously man-used/made object/multiple objects. Or, as Wikipedia says, “a collection of one or more contexts representing some human non-portable activity”. The first feature we recorded was an old quarry. This is one of the peculiar things you sometimes see in the Peak District, small-scale quarries, maybe large enough to supply the stone for one or two houses. Nowadays, because of our greater capacity for transport and ability to quarry with heavy machinery which can make larger holes and stays in one place, we have more commercial quarries, but in the past, it made a lot more sense to only move the stone for your house a few hundred metres at most. Photographing from different angles, and recording the directions each photograph was taken in (cardinal directions, this helps locate the feature later and records what it looks like to check its preservation), we then proceeded to the next few things to check on the list.
We couldn’t check the shooting butts, because they were in use on the day we were there – a nice example of something that was used historically still being used today. That is one of the things you don’t get with most castles, and always a nice thing to come across – history still living, in the present day. In this case, it was not particularly helpful, as it restricted us to the other side of the valley and only a part of the hill beyond. However, there was not as much archaeology in the cautioned-off area for the shooting, so we still managed a good deal of recording. We checked an old sheepfold, some mining/quarrying remains (hard to tell, it’s an area with both), searched in vain for some ridge-and-furrow (though we could see some very evident on the other hillside), checked a dewpond, some more mining evidence, and then came to the highlight of the day for me – a (suspected) Romano-British earthen bank along the side of a little valley. It is a very clear feature – a great stone-built earth bank, running horizontally about halfway up the hill, which would have made an important statement when it was first constructed. There seems to be another one, running perpendicular to it across the bottom of the valley. It is intersected by a (probably) mediaeval holloway, a trackway that has been worn away to a sunken road by years of use. This, by the Law of Superposition, means the bank predates the trackway, so a Roman date is likely.
(The Law of Superposition is an archaeological rule that states what is below or intersected by something else is earlier than the other something, and therefore that other something is later than the thing it overlays or cuts into. If you think about it, this makes sense – but it took this pointing out before I realised the reason behind it!)
We had lunch, then climbed the opposite hill and looked around for the settlement evidence. However, by this time, it was threatening rain, we were all tired, and we didn’t want to risk coming into the line of fire from the rifle range. It does not make a good end for an archaeologist to be shot by accident with a rifle, even if Indianna Jones has been able to repeatedly be nearly shot intentionally and survived. As a result, we walked down the hill and back to the car, planning when to come next time so we could check out the bits of heritage that had been out of reach. I found it helpful, not so much for the actual features we examined there, nor the particular way of recording, but what was, was the practice at recording and seeing more examples of historical remains, all of which go into a sort of database in my head. I now consider myself ready to plan and lead a session for the police cadets, or the Explorers – who have now asked me to lead a session – so I’d better go and plan for that one quick!
Hey Blog! Sorry about the lack of posts for the past month, that’s because I’ve been away!
Last year in April I told how I’d been on a sail training voyage. I ended by saying I wanted to go back and do some more. Now, I have!
Please see the posts on last year’s voyage for some more information about The Island Trust, and the boat I was on – the gaff topsail schooner Johanna Lucretia (JL) – and sailing! Much of what we did then was repeated this time, so I’ll tell you mostly what was different.
The first voyage, last year, was a regular voyage. This one was special in two ways – firstly, it was a home-ed only voyage and secondly it was an ocean discoverability voyage. We were not aware of the latter until we arrived to embark, and at first I was concerned it might interfere with the sailing part of the voyage, but upon checking the forecast and seeing storms I realized it was good to have something other than sailing to keep us busy when the weather got too dangerous. Indeed, it got so bad on the Wednesday we couldn’t go out at all, and had to stay in port. However, it was mitigated by the chance to have an ice cream ashore!
The storms were most annoying. I was expecting a long sail where I would get lots of experience and overcome the persisting nervousness I had last voyage. I seem to be a bad weather talisman, or else too many people were whistling aboard ship! (This is a sailor’s superstition that whistling brings wind; if you whistle too much, you get too much of a good thing.) The surprising thing was the nervousness was mostly gone, but instead I felt a bit seasick some of the days. Thankfully I had packed the motion sickness tablets and they worked, albeit at the cost of feeling disconnected, as if I was drunk. I expect it is because both the tablets and alcohol jinx the nerves that connect the balancing mechanism in the ear to the brain. No wonder all pirates drank rum – being drunk must give you a better chance of not actually being seasick, so long as you don’t drink too much! It’s a pity nothing stronger than squash is allowed on board, especially as it was someone’s 18th birthday halfway through the week, but perhaps it’s better to sail with a crew who are in possession of all their faculties!
Talking of crew, there were 16 hands on board. Four were staff, officers, employees, teachers, skippers, mates and ocean discoverability experts – i.e. the official people who know what they’re doing; the ones who show us the ropes – literally in some cases! The remaining twelve were trainees, aged 13 to 18, and with experience varying from never sailing anything larger than a dinghy, and that only little, all the way to experienced sailors who had practiced going as staff on other voyages! As I said last year, the best way to make friends is to throw a bunch of people together on a boat for six days and keep them there while sailing around. It works. If you don’t believe me, just look up The Island Trust and sign on to a voyage to try it. Actually, don’t everyone do that – places are limited, and I want a space!
The itinerary was the same as last year’s, and the general tasks were the same. The differences were the Ocean Discoverability sessions and the places we went sailing. Among the former were learning about seaweed, and the different levels in the sea they are found; lowering a camera over the side of the ship to see the wildlife down there (we didn’t see much – a couple of crabs and some common dog whelks!) and a trip to the aquarium – a trade-off for when it’s too windy to go sailing! I had never been to an aquarium, so the whole experience was new, interesting, and showed a lot of aquatic creatures, but, like I find with many exhibits, I take a lot longer to go round and look at everything than most people who just pass through, looking quickly. Also, the star exhibit, the sea turtle, was the same species as I have swum with when we lived in the Caribbean, brushed up against in its natural habitat, so just made me reminisce about Barbados and how the weather was probably better there! To me, the most interesting bits were reading about all the science, as well as looking at some of the less-observed creatures, the small things you don’t see from land or the side of a boat.
Talking of things you see from the side of a boat, the wildlife highlight of the trip was about a minute of dolphins crossing the boat! We were on a beam reach – where the boat is heading perpendicular to the wind, and the beam, the side of the ship, is closest to the wind – and the dolphins were suddenly there, small black fins arcing out and then back in a little further off, and just a shape and a colour underwater near the boat. I’m sure they went straight underneath, and they must have been going pretty fast, as we were going the fastest I’ve ever gone in a sailing vessel – 7 knots! This was because we weren’t trying to fight the waves or wind, we were sailing along both of them, so JL was moving beautifully, without too much rocking, and very fast!
A note here about knots. They are the nautical measure of speed, one nautical mile per hour. You may think they are the domain of Tresure Island and suchlike, along with fathoms (6ft.) and pieces-of-eight. Knots, however, are still used, as are nautical miles: 1 nautical mile = about 0.87 land miles. The speed unit of knots is due to the old days when to tell you how fast you were sailing, you threw a log tied to a piece of string with knots in it over the side, and counted how many knots went through your fingers in a period of time to tell how fast you were going – this was known as streaming the log. Of course, wind or tide could move the log away from the point you threw it in, messing up the results, so dead reckoning (read: guesswork with practice) was the standard use. It’s much easier to use GPS, and not crash into things.
And talking of knots, I am somewhat of an expert. I know all the 8 knots expected for Competent Crew, the recognised qualification for general sailing ability, and could tie them asleep almost. I also know a few more that are not on the list. But the 8th knot of the list was one I have had incredible bother with, the rolling hitch. I will never forget it now, however – we had a knotting session on board, where it was explained the way to remember is to think of it as the round turn of a round turn and two half hitches, and the second turn of a clove hitch! This just reinforces my view that there are only a few knots which are unique, as the others are just combinations of the basic variations. I was able to help a few people learn some of the Competent Crew knots, and generally worked very well with ropes all the time there. One of the staff even said they would welcome me back, as I could be given a task and then do it perfectly. I expect my parents would be grateful if I could do that at home.
I really want to go back. It’s one of the best experiences ever. When one of the other trainees said they were moving to Plymouth so would probably be going sailing on JL all the time, my thought was ‘lucky sod’. I would love to be able to be out on the water all the time, as I feel a connection to it which I miss, living as I do about as central to England and as far from the sea as it is possible to be in this country. I wish I could do more sailing, perhaps some of the races that the company enters their ships in, and if not, just mile-building. Since this voyage I was finally able to get the Competent Crew qualification, I am now able to sail some more interesting voyages as I work for Watch Leader and maybe eventually Day Skipper. My sister’s husband has now earned not just Day Skipper but Costal Skipper, which is only one stage below Yachtmaster, the top three qualifications the RYA offers. And with the news The Island Trust offers adult voyages concurrently with youth voyages, we are planning a joint sailing week some time next year. Fingers crossed!
Hey Blog! To return to the note my lovely, helpful and rather brilliant editor made in my last post, I am indeed going to tell you about the Duke of Edinburgh’s Award and what I’ve been doing to get my Bronze qualification!
The first time I heard about DofE is a little stuck in my memory, even if the details are not certain. The family and I were in the car on the way for a walk somewhere and we noticed some older kids with big rucksacks and someone remarked that was probably for DofE. I only really concentrated on it when I progressed from Scouts and became aware that Explorers offers a DofE program, as 14 is the first age from which you can start it; and the three top awards in Explorers (Platinum, Diamond and King’s Scout) run concurrently to the Duke of Edinburgh’s Awards (Bronze, Silver and Gold). However, at 14 I felt I had enough to be getting on with for the time and decided to wait for about six months before starting. While initially completely unsure of what I wanted to do for the three sections apart from the expedition, I was able to come to a decision to choose Young Leading with the Beavers for Volunteering (which I was already doing anyway – you’ve heard a lot about it and I probably don’t need to tell you much more); Cricket for Physical (which I was still deliberating about continuing, but decided to go for it, loved it, and am certain I will next year – once again, I’ve told you about this so I can pass it over), and Baking for Skills. Let’s start with that.
You can see now that this is a join-the-dots of my work so far. Baking, something I was planning to learn (along with cooking – maybe that will be for Silver) was the only thing I needed to do above and beyond what I already knew. I know how to make shortbread by heart – the only thing I already do know from memory – but decided I want to make an afternoon tea. I must have been mad. But then, so far, it’s going well.
I have made several varieties of biscuit, maybe needing one more batch to round it off; I have further practiced four different cakes – chocolate, banana, Victoria sponge and lemon drizzle – the last two have been particularly delicious and are contenders for the tea party I plan to bake for next week. I have made two batches of scones, one with fruit and one without, because I forgot to put it in – they will definitely be on the table. I have tried flapjacks, which went down very well on the expedition; muffins, with After-8s on the top at a friend’s suggestion, which are delicious; and I need another practice at bread and that will be it – so I know what I have left to do now!
Back to the expedition. Because I have done lots of walking, am accustomed to carrying heavy backpacks, have practiced with a camping stove, and can keep going while traveling very fast, I had no issue with the expedition – in fact, it was probably the easiest part for me. My biggest boggle was the packing: in advance, when I had to work out what would be needed, how often, and when, and try to pack accordingly, and on the expedition, where I had to unpack and repack what I used overnight, which messed it up a bit. The only other problem was with food. Though I am quite slim, I usually eat quite a lot, and the recommended “twice what you normally eat” would leave the rucksack unable to carry anything else. While dry food would take up less space, it still constituted much of the bag, though this rapidly decreased as I ate over the week. However, due to a convenient packing system of zip lock bags from the supermarket, designed by Mum, I was able to compartmentalise my food for the week into daily ration packs. This was certainly a great help.
The expedition I signed up to was a back-to-back expedition, consisting of a practice walk for two days and the actual, qualifying expedition for the second two days. Seems I should have just skipped to Gold DofE standard – I was there just as long, and the extra walking wouldn’t have been too much harder. The preparatory days gave participants a chance to get to know each other first, and so be ready to walk together on the last two days – besides having the chance to practice navigation, camp cooking, and not irritating the others to death – all of which I had zero problems with. Checking we had everything we needed and knew what on earth we were doing on day 1, we then went for a short walk to demonstrate our map skills on day 2. Starting near Hathersage on day 3, the groups walked to Pindale, before returning on day 4. It was really good – the walking was straightforward, if fast-paced and over reasonably bumpy terrain, the cooking was as good as camp food can be (I must remember to get one of those stoves!) and the people were friendly and worked successfully as a team. Now, I need to go and bake some more cakes and get ready for working on something for Silver DofE!
Hey Blog! It’s another archaeological post. Yes, another. But this time, it’s not about digging, but about experimental archaeology!
Experimental archaeology is, by definition, experimenting to find out how archaeology was made – how something was done in the past. Say I find a mysterious lump of metal, clean it, examine it, and still can’t figure out how exactly it was made; I need to go to an experimental archaeologist for them to test different ways of making it to discover the method that produces the most similar result. I mean, I’d probably do that myself but you get the idea. Some experimental archaeology is done using both written and unearthed evidence, some uses the information from what we’ve dug up alone. It is especially useful if you want to understand how people lived, as if you realise they need to spend hours making one small decoration, you can deduce they have a lot of free time, and so the other necessities mush be able to be done faster.
The reason I can tell you more about this now is because the weekend before last, I was on an experimental archaeology camp. With the Scouts. Yes, this is another post about Derbyshire Scout Archaeology, and again, I attended as a Young Leader. One difference between this time and last is that we were all camping overnight! The plan was originally to stay in tents, in the field, but due to heavy rain risk (it did rain, but not heavily) the plan was changed last minute to sleep in the farmhouse, and run all the activities under a roof. This was perhaps helpful, as it would have been rather damp outside, and while flintknapping and string making can be done in the rain, it’s harder to do cooking or discuss authentic, 80 year old guns.
There were five activities for the Scouts to partake in: flintknapping, bushcraft, ancient cooking, Vikings, and WWII. It seems like the premise of the camp went along the lines of “make the tool, attach the tool, hunt, cook, bury your dead and then become advanced and blow people up”. For flintknapping, we had engaged the fantastic Dr. James Dilley, who I have mentioned previously (see Breaking Rocks – Precisely! from two or three years ago) and knows an enormous amount about the prehistoric. He is expert at most things through building a log boat, to making impressive, beautiful, fully functional hand axes, and attempting to pass on this knowledge to Scouts who had probably never even considered how flint tools were made; which is code for we were very lucky to get him to help.
Bushcraft was being run by a couple of members of the local Scout Bushcraft team, who had arranged to show some Scouts how to make cordage. By the second day, I had a piece in excess of 6 ft. long, and hadn’t even been working on it for most of the time. Ancient Cooking was Mum’s activity; I knew about it from what she’d been practicing at home: the Scouts were making flatbreads after grinding their own flour (actually, none of them ground enough to make anything out of it, but they had a practice with the quern) and then eating them to check if they had made them well.
Vikings was an activity run by some University students, who wanted to help and were very knowledgeable about Vikings, runes, and how people lived in that era. The WWII experience was an impressive collection of real equipment from the Second World War, containing everything from camouflage cloth to a bomb disposal kit, from unopened bandages to Bren guns. While we wouldn’t have been allowed to use it if it hadn’t been decommissioned, I’m not sure that some of it couldn’t be recommissioned, it was that authentic! All we lacked was a map table, and then the room would have looked like HQ – except for the half-dozen Scouts who certainly wouldn’t have been allowed in 80 years ago!
“Yes, Sir!”
I had a good time Young Leadering, and I think the Scouts had a great time too. I got to spend an entire weekend hitting rocks with the experts and making a length of string, alongside guiding young people through experimental archaeology. And just by stepping in to help a few stuck Scouts, somehow managed to impress the Bushcraft team, so there may be more opportunities on my way in future. I don’t know yet. I have no doubt I’ll do some more archaeology in the future, so I will be keeping the flints in that box on the windowsill, and the trowel still in my drawer, waiting to get back to digging stuff up or testing new theories – whichever one comes next!
Until last month, I had never broken a bone. Then I failed to catch a cricket ball properly, and managed to break a finger. Three trips to the hospital later and five weeks in to wearing a splint, I can tell you what I know about bones.
There are 206 bones in the average adult human body. This includes everything from the femur, the thick thigh bone, to the miniscule ear bone which conducts vibrations down the ear canal so you can hear things. Eh? Babies have a few more, as to fit through the mother’s pelvis, their bony bits need to squash slightly smaller – so they are made with more bones, which later fuse. If you’ve ever seen a skull, the places the skull fuses are those little wiggly lines on the back of the head. Some bones aren’t even bone; cartilage – a rubbery bone-like stuff that forms your nose, covers your joints, and makes up shark “skeletons” – is used in place of bone in some parts of babies, and ossifies (turns to bone) later. Note – cartilage is not to be confused with keratin, which makes pangolin scales, and, less excitingly, your toenails. Nor is it to be confused with Carthage, which was a city beaten by Rome in the Punic Wars.
Humans are vertebrates, as are all mammals, birds, reptiles, and fish: we have a central spine, which holds the most important part of our nervous system, supports the body, and provides a base for the rest of our skeleton to be built off. If you are speaking to a human, you can’t accuse somebody of having no backbone, because all vertebrates have one. However, the spine, while perhaps the longest chain of bones in the body, does not hold the most bones. A quarter of those 206 are in the hands and feet – including phalanges (the finger bits), metacarpals (the back of the palm bit), tarsals (the wrist bit), and the very end of the arm bones, the radius and diameter. Sorry, the radius and ulna. I’ve got maths on the brain. I broke the last end bone on my left ring finger, at the joint, making it a fractured distal interphalangeal joint, commonly known as a mallet finger, probably because it’s easily done if you hit your finger with a mallet. For those who haven’t broken a bone, it hurts. 0 stars, do not recommend.
The X-ray of my finger. Note the chip of the top.
So, what if a group of graverobbers/archaeologists/obsessive fans of Home Ed in a Shed (delete as appropriate) found my skeleton after I’ve died? What clues as to my life could they deduce? Firstly, I have an eyebrow ridge and square-ended chin, which indicates a male, and I have a narrow notch in my pelvis, also suggesting a male (both correct). I have a curious line near my right temple where there is no bone – I have no idea what this signifies. The bones are long, and (so far) only one has any sign of a break, implying a tall build and little risk of excessive strain in my occupation. I would suspect reasonably average tendon attachments, so medium strength; definitely more strongly pronounced in the legs than the arms. Powerful tendons in my fingers, possibly signifying a pianist (correct); and hopefully not too much wear on the joints. Perhaps a little less strong than they could be, indicating a dislike of milk, but still strong, indicating a liking for cheese (both correct). The rest they would have to piece together from my grave goods – an item from every period in history should confuse the experts – and maybe even this blog. Who knows?!
Hey Blog! I’m back in session with another book review!
A little bit of background. I went to Reading a couple of weekends ago to see family, and while there we went to a lovely little pub in a nearby place called Mapledurham. Sitting there, I saw a notice that this was where Kenneth Grahame spent a lot of time by the river, and certain places in the area were the inspiration for his novel, The Wind in the Willows. Or at least some people think so – like most novels, half a dozen places claim the origin of the story. If you haven’t read the book – stop right now and do!
The Wind in the Willows is an excellent, enjoyable read, depicting the early-20th century country life and detail therein at its best and capturing the beauty of an unspoiled world with a lot more nature and a lot less people messing it up. Perhaps the most spectacular aspect of the book is it manages, subtly, definitively, and yet without any fudging, to have animal main characters in a human world, with them interacting as if it wasn’t odd and having almost no fantasticality. This level of skill at merging is something I wish I could possess, and is so perfectly situated in an environment of idyllic central-south English countryside that the book is a work of fine art and literary elegance. If you haven’t stood by a river and used all your senses on it; if you’ve never seen nature’s beauty in the landscape; if you’re yet to imagine what a mole, a water vole, a badger and a toad could get up to in their spare time (such as going on long adventures, falling in streams, and chasing motor-cars around!) – then start by reading The Wind in the Willows and see if you think about it next time you go near water.
The book has four main characters: Mole, Ratty, Badger, and Toad. They are perfectly drawn, with their own little quirks: Mole is home-loving, exited by the new things found in the book; Rat (a water vole, but at the time of publishing, more commonly called a water rat) is busy, skilful and loves the river; Badger is anti-social but kind, and an important personality among the other animals; and Toad is obsessed with whatever his new passion is (before landing on fast cars and staying there!). The story mostly concerns the adventures of the animals to assist, then rescue, Toad, when his automobile obsession gets out of control; but also covers side-quests, so to speak, which further flesh out the characters and the setting of the story – looking for the baby otter and finding him with an apparition of the god Pan, for instance. It is rather a quaint novel, and yet still one which is relevant – particularly because the world is changing: now water voles, like Ratty, are becoming rarer; most people (including me) have never seen a live mole; and cars, the bane of Toad’s ability to relax in life, are taking over or even have already. In a way, the story is unintentionally (or intentionally?) a metaphor for how people and their technology have taken over the lives of animals and is harming them. It may also be a metaphor for what animals wish they were doing in response, but unfortunately, I cannot communicate with badgers and ask them.
Either way, I think The Wind in the Willows is a classic for a reason, and that is because it shows the charm of rural, natural life, with a focus on animals, and above all, it’s a fun, poignant, and beautiful read!
Hey Blog! This time I’m telling you about Activation, the Scouts opportunity which I joined in June to assist with activities for younger Scouts!
Once a year, a field in Derbyshire is taken over for the weekend. No, this isn’t a Glastonbury rip off – this is a Scouts activity. All the county teams – the climbing team, the caving team, the biking team, the sailing team, etc – turn up for the weekend to give the children a taster of the activity. This is the place I tried sailing and found I really enjoyed it, back in 2019 – and subsequently went on to get a lot more involved. The Archaeology team is a new addition to Activation – only starting two years ago – but has already become popular. It seems the Cubs and Scouts quite enjoy it – and if how I reacted to the sailing has anything in common with how they react to archaeology, then we’re going to have several more archaeologically interested Scouts in a few years!
Because the field is pretty much just a field, there isn’t much of archaeological interest in the ground. Therefore, digging is kind of pointless. Instead, we do practical activities, such as building a roundhouse, or making prehistoric jewellery. Or what I was helping with this year – Roman signalling. It’s a bit like semaphore, which I really should memorise, but perhaps easier to understand – there is simply a 5-by-5 grid, which has an arrangement of letters in it, and by arraying ten flags in a particular grouping, you can signal a letter. A, at the beginning of the alphabet, is first in the table, so is 1.1 – you need one flag in each group. B, as the second letter, is 1.2 – one flag in the first group and two in the second. Those who are mathematically minded will have noticed that since it’s a 5-by-5 grid, you can’t fit all the letters in – there are 26 letters in the alphabet, not 25. The Romans solved this problem by having an alphabet with only 24 letters in – I and J were written with the same character until quite late in history, about the 16th century; and U and V were likewise written the same. I don’t know what they did with the extra space in the grid – maybe it was a punctuation mark or something. Those who are spatially aware will have noticed that you can swap the numbers around – to try and signal K, the first letter of my name, you need 2 flags in one group and 5 in the other. But if you got them the wrong way round, you’d be spelling W – and my name does not begin with a W! So if you try this at home, think before sending (a good idea in all communication) and ensure the flag groups are the right way round so the other team you’re signalling to knows which is which!
Activation has four groups per activity per day, with about 20 Cubs/Scouts in each. I only helped with the Cubs, who all came on the Saturday, and because we had two activities waiting, we divided the 20 into two groups, so the activities were easier to run. This meant I only had to deal with 10 Cubs at a time – and while I can effectively communicate with 20 Beavers I know at once, when I don’t know the children, the smaller size is helpful. I started by introducing what I’ve already said above, and then we started signalling. While the individual words/letters we signalled changed over the day, we generally started by signalling initials, before moving on to a word that meant something – the number of activities at this year’s Activation, for instance. Unfortunately, since we didn’t have a full hour with each half-group, no group had the full practice and therefore we only managed a word or two with each new set. Still, I think almost everyone enjoyed it, and hopefully we’ll be able to use the activity at another event and maybe get a few more signals sent. Can you imagine how difficult it would be to send a long message? To signal this post, you’d need a day and more!
The other activity for the cubs was making mini ballistae. These catapults were developed by the Greeks, and their use lasted until the invention of the quicker longbows and then cannons made them obsolete. Still, they were extremely effective – some inventors even designed a repeating ballista which had a loading compartment and operated on one rachet that would draw, load and fire all at once. Effectively, the first machine gun! Ours were not as advanced, being made of lollipop & cocktail sticks and pieces of string rather than large beams and enormous cables. However, I think they too were much appreciated.
I did not attend on Sunday, but by all accounts the Scouts attending had a great time. They were making larger trebuchets, though by larger I mean about a foot or two tall. Not like the properly big one, about two or three metres tall that Dad and I tried to make but have put aside for now to make space for a larger project. Perhaps next year, there’ll be space for a really massive one and we can have something that will fire a large ball the mile or so downhill to the local lake. Maybe. After all, who knows what I’ll get up to for Activation next year?!
