Roman Land

I was sitting in the computer room on Monday during Lunch Break shooting the shit with Atli and Bjarki, when Hrafnkell came in and asked me if Sudoku wanted to play again this week. Stefan's arm is still fucked from his operation so Thingtak can't play the gig with Skorpulifur that they were going to play this Thursday. Ragnar from Skorpulifur asked if we could play instead, so I said, yes, why not? Two gigs in one week... Madness.

The weekend passed with no great shakes, I was going to go on a road trip with Duncan and Roz. Jo didn't want to go as she had been running around like a blue arsed fly in London for the last month and wanted a quiet weekend. We borrowed Vala's car on Friday and I was all set to go the morning after the Sudoku gig. Then Jo reminded me that it was Valentine's weekend and maybe D and R didn't want a gooseberry tagging along. I'd completely forgotten about it and, well why should I remember something like that? As it happens Duncan and Roz didn't mind having someone along (Duncan had also forgotten anyway...) but I still felt weird about it. I didn't go in the end and basically sat on my arse all weekend, trying not to spend any money.

I was working inside today and Albina (Fish Bone Expert) asked if she could use the computer to download some files. As we were chatting she let it slip that she was rushing because she had a car full of dead pigs and they were stinking the place up. She offered me a slice of the meat, they had only been dead a couple of days she said. I declined this tempting proposition.

Sudoku Photos and Videos

The world's premier Ninja Metal band play live in Reykjavik in front a of a packed house!!

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Here are the photos:

Here

Havamal

Sudoku played live on Friday night for the first time ever! Ninja metal was unleashed upon an unsuspecting Icelandic Public in the Dillon Sports Bar at Hafnarfjörður. Hrafnkell told me about the opening as Steppi from Thingtak was still fucked from hi shoulder operation and they couldn't play, so Sudoku stepped up to the challenge. Quickly recruiting the bassist Sayonara Hiroshi and the button presser/dancer Saru Shokushu Goukan, we had a few rehearsals. Well when I say we had a few rehearsals, I mean on Thursday evening after work I showed Hrappi how to play the songs, then we went to his house and amped up, and did a few run throughs of the set list. He kept me awake til the early morning putting Linux on the computer and showing me family photo albums...

On Friday evening we (Jo, Hrappi and I) went down to Hokus Pokus to pick up three Ninja Costumes. Jo had mentioned the day before that I aught to maybe think about buying them then. Friday night was definitely a case 'told you so'. The store had sold out completely, there must have been a fucking rush on Ninja parties in Reykjavik, we asked the toothless simpleton behind the counter if he knew of anywhere else that would sell Ninja Costumes. He said he had no idea and only knew what went on in his shop. What kind of attitude is that? I would have thought that if you worked in a shop with such a narrow sales line (i.e. Fancy Dress Costumes) you would have done your research and found out what competition you had in the surrounding area. Especially in a place as small as Reykjavik. All you have to do is open the fucking telephone directory and they are all there. Needless to say, we didn't have a telephone directory and the twat behind the counter probably couldn't even use a telephone anyway. It's not something I generally have about my person, a telephone directory.

I digress, it threw us into a bit of a panic. Jo suggested getting some material and making our own costumes so we bombed over to a haberdashery and I bought several meters of black material at a fucking astronomical cost. Who would have thought the economic crisis would strike at the heart of haberdashers as well as the layman. Or maybe they put their prices up in order to milk as much out of other peoples misery as possible. Fucking haberdashers. They are worse than Paedophiles.

Duncan, Roz, Jo and I called over to Hrappi's place, much to the consternation of Iris and we managed to squeeze another rehearsal and get dressed ready for the big event. The costumes looke much better than the shitty ones I was going to buy at Hokus Pokus, so for one thing I was happy that the toothless idiot behind the counter wouldn't be able to feed his children tonight with my money.

We hit Dillon Sports Bar and walked in dressed as Ninjas. There was no one there to see us. The bar was heaving with about six people in it. Most of them formed the other three bands that played. We were told that we would be on after Skorpulifur, who were meant to be headlining, but had decided since we were from 'England' we should go on as headliners instead. My first live experience and I would be headlining... Anyway Skorpulifur were excellent, even if their singer was smashed out of his head and fell over several times during their set. Rock and Roll. Then it was our turn. By this point the other supporting bands and their attendees left thinning the crowd down to my friends and Skorpulifur.

We played 'Ninja Porks a Babe' as the intro and launched in 'Ninja is for Life', well when I say launched, we hobbled into it as Duncan had set up the track but had failed to press play. I hit the play button and we completely fucked it up. Hrappi had forgot to turn his bass amp on, so there was just me thrashing on the guitar. It went from bad to worse. I pressed play on what I thought was the drum track for 'Do You Wanna Get Pumped' and began hammering away at it. It turns out that it was the drum track to 'Ninja is for Life'. It didn't seem to affect the song though...

It was only during 'A Furious Aural Beating at the Hands of a Ninja' that we started to pick up our mojo and we played this one excellently if I say so myself. Duncan again ruined it all with the segue between 'Ninja Plays and Awesome Fucking Solo' and 'Ninja!', but Hrappi's and my professionalism managed to keep it on track. I fucked up during 'Seppuku' but managed to pull it back together for 'Ninja Hammer' during which the bar was bing closed and chairs put on tables. We finished the show with the Sudoku version of 2unlimited's 'No Limits' playing whilst we all danced like we were being electrocuted. It may have been a fuck up but Sorkpulifur still wanted us to play with them again, maybe to make them look better I don't know. I can now tick the 'played live with a band' box. I spent the rest of the night driving around in Hrappi's car in a vain attempt to go drinking.

In other news I beat Atli at Memoir 44 twice on Wednesday, this also includes another beating last Wednesday at Axis and Allies. But being a gentleman who doesn't like to gloat, I only have this to say:

In your face, in your face, in your face, in your stupid fucking face, Atli you retard!!!

Of Forests Unknown

Some of you asked about the midden layers, so I'm going to tell you all about them. OK, so I'll assume that some of you reading this are not archaeologists and may not know what a midden even is. It is basically a dump of shit, dumped by people in the olden days, which is then covered up and waits for people like me to find it, using the cutting edge technology that is a JCB or a trowel.

We are using a Total Station Theodolite that has a sequential point number sequence. Which means as we continue along, the context numbers get larger and larger. So we have what look like unwieldy context numbers, but you soon get used to it.

The first layer was 67891, this was a reddish brown peaty layer, typified by it's firmness. The layer covered the North Eastern corner of the area C. Finds included an occasional amount of disarticulated animal bones, frequent charcoal flecks and moderate burnt bones. 67891 was laminated and gleyed. At it's maximum depth it was 0.13m deep.

Directly below 67891 was 68231 a greyish red silty turf. 68231 was soft and slightly friable. Localised in the North Eastern corner of area C it had a frequent amount of animal bones and medium sized stones. The maximum depth for 68231 was 0.03m.

Underneath 67891 but unconnected to 68231 was 69174 a reddish grey peaty turf layer. There was a frequent amount of fish bones and a moderate amount of stones. 69174 was a zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz....................................

Atli found a tiny shoe at work yesterday, it was about four inches long. This led to a discusion about the significance of it. We formulated several theories.

1) There was a man in Reykjavik in the middle ages with one normal leg and one withered leg who lost his shoe.

2) In Reykjavik in the Olden Days there was a fairy.

3) In Reykjavik in the Olden Days there was a child.

4) In Reykjavik in the Olden Days there was at least half a child.

Choose your favourite. Mine is number four.

Here is some much more interesting news, I went to see Valkyrie on Sunday. Go and see it. It's excellent. I know what you're going to say 'Oh it's Tom Cruise, I don't like him, he's into that crazy religion, Scientisticus or whatever it's called.' Ignore that and go and see it. It's about the July Bomb plot against Hitler and Cruise plays Von Stauffenberg and plays it well. He is also supported by an excellent cast of mainly British actors, including a pretty good Eddie Izzard (a mediocre comic, but a decent actor...). Needless to say the bomb plot failed and Hitler survived to win the war in Europe and become head of a Master Race dominated Super Power. I'm sorry of that last bit spoils the end for you, just don't read it if you want to see the movie. Valkyrie is to me a Hollywood version of Der Untergang, which is one of my favourite films of all time. Valkyrie doesn't come anywhere close to the brilliance of Der Untergang, but it makes a damn good attempt. Also I actually got quite excited in the opening scenes where I spotted what looked like a Panzer IV F.

It does appear to be my fate that every time I go to see a movie in Iceland there is some part of it not in English. The Day the World Stood Still had a conversation in Chinese, Quantum of Solace had larges parts in Spanish. Valkyrie begins with Cruise speaking in German. In all these cases the non English parts were translated in Icelandic subtitles, so I sat there scratching my head wondering what was going on. I hope I didn't miss any vital plot lines...

Jo got back on Sunday, hooray!!

Response to Dr. Clay

Dr. John Clay has published in his Blog a pack of downright lies and misinformation about several weeks during which I was resident at his house in York. In his post he claims that I was abusive and violent towards him and the household. It seems he has a problem with his memory, which is not surprising given how drunk he was during my stay. It was he rather than me that was the abuser. I only wish I was able to stand up to his daily batterings and that I wouldn't have allowed the following to occur;

1) He would pace up and down outside my room ringing bells all night long. Sleep depravity was one of his favourite methods of torment.

2) He insisted on calling me 'Quentin' for the entire time I lived with him. The reasons for this are beyond me.

3) He locked me out of the house on several occasions, he then would call the Police and tell them there was a paedophile outside his house trying to get in. I was arrested three times for this and am still on the sex offenders register.

4) When I was getting milk out of the fridge he smashed the door shut on my head and repeatedly slammed it until I was unconscious.

5) When I was at work (He never worked, he just scrounged off the dole.) he threw all my belongings out of my room and into the street. After urinating on them he tried to burn them, I only stopped him because I had been sent home from work early due to lack of sleep (see number 1).

6) He flooded my room and ran an electric current through the water just so he could 'watch me dance'.

7) He stole the neighbour's car and ran me over.

8) He punched me so hard in the face it broke my eye socket and blinded me. When I returned from the hospital he had sold all my possessions and laughed while stamping on my fingers.

9) He would force me to wear a saddle and rode me to the shops like a pig.

There was much more than this, but my memory is blurred from all the abuse I took.

Heathen Foray

Well it seemed that most people enjoyed the last few posts, reminiscing is big business these days. I shall continue with this theme by reminiscing about the past week. Last weekend was Bjarki's birthday, so I went along with most of the people from site. We didn't arrive until quite late, mainly due to Hrafnkell being late with the lift. Despite it not being my problem I had to endure abusive text messages from Lilja, demanding to know where we were. We arrived in fine style just as Atli and Hrönn were leaving, thank God. There was some free booze, then a good bunch of us headed into town. I ended up dancing the night away at Kofi Tómasar Frænda, after introducing Angelos to some girl I'd never met before. She was walking past us so I stopped her and said 'do you know my friend Angelos. He's Greek.' Before heading off to the toilet and leaving them to it.

I was ill on Monday, a bit from drinking too much over the weekend (I had been out on Friday as well) also a bit from my feet. I didn't sleep much either, too much thinking, so I decided to stay in bed and rest me poor old plates of meat. Not much else happened down the week. Work was pretty much the same as ever. We are removing layers and layers of midden deposits with trowels so it's not very stimulating.

I was out on Friday again, this time, just Angelos and I. We went to a party thrown by Albina, for various reasons; moving in, someones birthday, someones new haircut, whatever. Again the free booze was a good attraction. Last night I went out to see a band with Duncan at Grand Rokk. They were called Deep Jimi, and guess what? They did covers of Jimi Hendrix (But no Deep Purple, strangely), Led Zeppelin (They even covered Heartbreaker and Livin' Lovin') and Cream. They were pretty fucking good and me and D ended up dancing like a pair of spastics by the end of it. Although, I do sometimes think that cover bands can be a real waste of talent. If you are a good enough musician it is not that difficult to do decent cover versions. Don't get me wrong these guys were great but I think there is something a bit sad about someone putting all that talent into SOMEONE else's song. I know the audience usually demand it and cover bands is were the money. People like to hear old shit they already know rather than challenge themselves with something new. I suppose, having said all that, it is good to hear songs you like being played live because the chance of me ever seeing Led Zeppelin or Cream play live is practically zero. Even less for Jimi Hendrix.

Farewell Pt 3 (Back to the UK and Beyond)

It was after six months of office work (I'm not cut out for inside work. I was like a caged animal..) I moved back to the UK for a job with Cotswold Archaeology. I was supposed to go to Worcester, but instead they threw me into Wales unaware of my Anti-Wales stance. To Four Crosses I was bound for Cedric's Guesthouse;

You can see the site which was under the houses on the right of the picture, the road that runs through the middle of the picture was on the edge of Offa's Dyke. Unfortunately I was on the Welsh side of it, Cedric was a bastard, The faulty kettle he gave me nearly burnt my house down and I couldn't get to Birmingham for a party and ended up getting stuck in Welshpool one weekend, this again probably points towards why I hate Wales so much. Besides that, the crew were brilliant and we cleaned the local pub out of beer every week at the pub quiz. Then Cotswold sent myself and the crew out to Worcester, to this place;

This was in the middle of nowhere and each weekend my housemates would leave to go back to their real lives and leave me alone there. With a twenty minute walk up the drive to the bus stop where there was only two buses to Worcester on Saturday it was almost true isolation. I remember one Saturday morning walking up the driveway to catch the only bus in the morning to Worcester City for the day. There still a five minute or so walk to the top of the drive when I saw the bus go past. It was heartbreaking. Then in an even smarter move Cotswold Archaeology moved me back to Wales, to Trimsaran, near Llanelli

You will note how fucking far away from the main road this place was. I know how far it was cos I had to walk it every time I wanted to get a bus out to the bright lights of Llanelli or Carmarthen. There was a bit of a theme developing with Cotswold Archaeology putting me in places with really long drives. God I hated that place. The only good thing about it was Sam, which turned out to be a bad thing after all. This place definitely tipped me over the edge of unbridled Welsh Hate if nothing else did.

This job was the straw that broke the camels back, I left Cotswold and moved back up north to York, where I spent six glorious months in what I still think was the best place I ever lived, Osbaldwick Village;

Yes, this house was lovely, my housemates were the best and York is where I am generally happiest. It was also in this house that the concept of Ninja Metal was born. The only black spot on this other wise halcyon existence was the couple of months I worked for Network Archaeology on the the big pipeline project that finally broke me as a field archaeologist, and here is where we were housed in Ingleton;

I know what you're thinking "That's just another field. Were you living in tents again?" No, we were living in houses which obviously were not built at the time this photograph was taken.

I went back to Osbaldwick but the joy was not to last however and I was forced to move back to Whiston due to circumstances beyond my control. I was always planning to move out again and then I got a job in Singapore, we all know how that ended, but my time there was spent in Yishun in this block of flats;

The Singapore adventure came to an end and I moved back to my parent's house again, I soon picked up work at the Barbican in York and removed myself to Sarah's bedsit on Holgate road;

I was only there for a short while until I took Craig's room at Precentor's Court;

You will see from this picture, how fucking close the house was to York Minister. The bells woke me up every Saturday morning. I used to hang out of the window screaming 'Shut up you Bastards!!' They never did. Craig was moving out and I moved in with the Violent Alcoholic John Clay. He had this practise he called the 'thirty minute Hate' where would beat me with a broomhandle every evening until he broke it over my head one night. He would then use his fists to pummel me into a bloody mess. He has a different account of it and it can be found here.

I escaped the brutal regime of Clay to Lichfield for an away job for Onsite Archaeology;

This was Pauline's Bed and Breakfast. I never knew madness until I had a breakfast time conversation with Pauline. She would tell us about the ghost cat that haunted the place, you could tell it was a ghost because it's tail 'bent the other way'. I still suffer from sleepless nights trying to figure out what this even means. She once introduced one of the other guests to us as 'Ahmed, he's a dentist.' When she was out of earshot 'Ahmed' told us his name was Daniel and he worked in the Prison Service. Utter, unadulterated madness.

There was another place we staying in Lichfield, but it was only for a short period of time and I couldn't find it on Google Maps so it will have to fade into obscurity. After Lichfield wrapped up I was back up North again to York to help finish off at the Barbican. I moved into Ross's place which he had got after moving out of Precentor's Court;

It was on Broadway in Fulford (Ross always said he was destined to be on Broadway). It was above the Thresher Wine Shop and I was awoken every Saturday morning by the delivery of thousands of bottles of booze for the thirsty denizens of York. It was like the ringing of the Minister bells, but more alcohol related. Ross also had an aversion to putting the heating on and it was a constant battle to get him to turn the hot water on. He used to tell me it would make me a stronger man. I used to tell him to fuck off and turn the radiators on. Sneakily I would put the hot water on when he was out.

Work came up in France for three months on the Finding the Fallen TV series, so I moved back to Whiston in between bouts of filming and again I fell into the easy trap of staying put at my parents house. Picking up work locally made it all too easy to stay there until this present job came up in Iceland, which I took, for better or for worse and ended up living here;

Where I am presently writing this post. Over the next couple of weeks, I shall be moving into this place here;

Which, you may or may not notice is about two minutes down the road from the previous address. Well, there you have it, my life in three posts. I found writing this post pretty interesting and looking for the old houses also stirred up a lot of old memories, good and bad. Maybe you could do it to. Write in and let me know how you got on!