The things i get talked into.
Actually, this one is all my fault. I take the blame.
In good old Stratford on Avon, there is a rumbling.
No, that's rather misleading- a rumbling isn't the right word.....more of a ....clinking.
The clinking of trowels on stone as Shakespeare's last home is dugged. That's a made-up word from Sprouty's dictionary, in case you were wondering.
And the lovely people at New Place are giving non diggy people such as me and Sy the opportunity to dig alongside the archaeologists this summer, to see if there is anything of any interest tucked away under the layers of Stratfordian mud.
I pointed the advert out to Sy.
'What do you reckon' says i, 'should we give it a go then?'
The Writer ponders for a nano-second.
'Good God Sprouty- we'd be bloody MAD not to go for this chance- OF COURSE we're going!'
That's that then.
So last week we went along to the open evening to have a look at what's what.
You can't see any of the excavations from the pavement as you walk past the house- it's all been boarded up- but if you are on one of the open top buses, you get a birds-eye view for about 30 seconds, as the bus turns the corner into Chapel Street- longer if some poor tourist drops ice cream and Stratford guide books in front of the aforesaid bus.
Some of the gardens have been dug - got to stop using that word- excavated- already, and a few bits of Victoriana have been found.
But lets face it, nobody gives a flying fart about Victoriana- everyone just wants to know if there is anything Shakespearian down there.
I told Sy i felt that no other historian would be 'digging for Will'-they probably wouldn't dream of getting there hands dirty. And to be truthful, i'd have to send Sy into battle with extra thick marigolds and some udder cream. After all, he's still got to type.
But imagine if you found something- really, actually, found something belonging to William Shakespeare.
Sy can't wait to get started.
Till next time,
Shakespeare's Housekeeper x
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