Tea's Up

A trio of octogenarian amateur archaeologists stumbled onto site the other day. It was my own fault, I'd told them they should come back and see how work was progressing when they tipped up on site last week and proceeded to almost walk under the wheels of a fully loaded Moxy. Archaeology is about people after all and therefore people have an interest in it, so I don't actually mind amateur archaeologists, even when they are telling me that the desk based assessment (DBA) that I am basing my knowledge of the site on is wrong. The DBA with its map regression and thorough search of the local Sites and Monuments Record for any known archaeological features and/or previous excavations. The DBA that is studied by the county archaeologist prior to any decision to go ahead and excavate a proposed development site. I don't even mind them telling me that their 'local knowledge' allows them to pinpoint exactly where the stash of buried Jewish gold left by the Nazis after World War One is, through a study of a copy of the 1398 vellum bound Ordnance Survey map that they discovered in the loft of the house once owned by Lord Screaming Sutcliffe of Rudston. They can even tell me that a study of the Ley Lines shown on said map draw a Star of David with a Crown atop that overlay the village of Fimber and this is the precise point the gold must be and we are digging in the wrong place. No that doesn't bother me at all. What does fucking bother me, is them turning up half way through my fucking tea break so I have to walk around showing them various holes we've dug and making up some bullshit story about how I know what the fuck is going on. They said they'd be back to see how we progress. I said make sure it's not between ten and ten thirty and one and one thirty, so I can enjoy a nice relaxing cup of fucking tea that I deserve for wading through tons and tons of chalk and clay compacted by four millennia of top soil.

 

I've got blisters on my fingers...

Tuesday was an interesting night. I met a girl I have not seen for five years. We had left off on what could be called acrimonious terms back in 2006 but I heard over the weekend she had come a little unstuck in her personal life and I thought reconciliation may be in order, coincidentally she was now living half an hour down the road. She needed friends and as we were once close, I thought I'd man up, swallow my pride and see if she wanted to meet up for a little bit of friendly support. I passed on my details through a mutual friend and it turns out she did. It also turns out little has changed, the man she once married is still an arsehole (as I always thought) and her Top Five Celebrity Shags are still the same. I had a great evening with her talking shit, catching up and generally putting a big tick in the 'Good Alex' tick box; God knows, I need a few more of those right now.

I shit you not, today I had a text conversation with Tarquin Sheen that went like this:

Me: Your turn (this is a reference to Battlefield Academy, a turn based computer game we were playing)

Him: Who is this? How did you get my number? If you contact me again I'm calling the police.

Me: it IS the police

Him: In that case the guy you want is called alex sotheran, he lives in york. He can tell you were the bodies are. I had nothing to do with it.

Me: Funny, he said the same of you.

Him: All i did was drive the car. I didn't even know what was in the bin bag. He said he'd cut me up if i didn't help him. I'm as much a victim as those girls.

Me: The ones we are investigating aren't girls. Would you care to tell us more?

Him: Shit. I'm not saying anything until I see my lawyer.

Me: You will. We'll beat it out of you.

Him: You can't do this. I know my rights. This is police brutality.

Me: What rights did you show your victims?

Him: THOSE WHORES HAD NO RIGHTS! THEY GOT WHAT WAS COMING TO THEM, THE FILTHY CUNTS!

Me: Erm. OK. Time out. This is not the police. I was just kidding. Jesus.

Him: Uh i knew that, i was joking too, i never killed anyone.

Me: We'll soon find out. I've forwarded this little conversation onto the police. It's up to them to find out the truth now.

I didn't hear another thing, so I'm guessing he's finally been rounded up.