As I carefully folded back the neatly cut turf, it was as if I had opened up a portal to the Bronze Age...
I do not know exactly what happened that night. One person on their own might have imagined it, but when two people simultaneously witness the same event there has to be something to it...
It was the last thing that I expected to see in the Shropshire countryside. It was futile to try and run, as I was no match for the power and agility of the animal that stood before me...
Buckingham's eyes fixed upon the old man like a hawk after its prey: "May a curse be upon thee for thy treachery," he snarled....
Poor old Mrs Brown's house took a direct hit. I laughed as her wooden leg came flying over the rooftops, clattering as it bounced off the rusty corrugated roof of our toilet at the bottom of the garden...
A rather large. well-endowed lady appeared in the doorway. Why I suddenly thought about Zeppelins I can't imagine...
John had not believed me when I told him that a Mr Crapper had invented the flush toilet, so it came as no surprise that he would not believe the origin of Zippo lighters...
The Parable of Burke and Hare
We caught the bus on that particular day. Having had a life-long aversion to using public transport, I did not relish the event. Feeling rather bilious after a journey of some thirty minutes duration, I was relieved to finally get off. No doubt the rest of the passengers were also relieved to see me get off.
Two days prior to the journey, I had walked the eight miles across country to carry out a reconnaissance of the field we were going to search the following weekend. Along the way, I had trodden in all sorts of animal deposits. I thought no more of it as I threw my boots on the floor of the garden shed after arriving home again. However, in the confines of the warm bus it was different matter.
I noticed the turning heads and twitching noses, and soon realised that the pungent odour, which had caught their attention, was emanating from my direction. Tucking the offending boots as far under the seat as I could, I casually remarked to John: "They must be muck spreading somewhere, mate." Good friend though he is, John is not known for his tact. His booming Devon accent retorted with disdain: "It's your ruddy feet that stink, Colin. What have you stepped in?"
The driver eventually dropped us at the crossroads; speeding away with the doors open.
It seemed spring had finally arrived as we strolled up the lane towards the church. We listened to a skylark singing and laughed about the passengers on the bus.
It would take too long to explain the geographical layout of the field we were going to search; suffice to say that access was only possible via the churchyard. Walking about in such places with detectors and trowels in our hands, we have always felt like the Victorian grave robbers, Burke and Hare. There is something about consecrated ground that makes me feel very guilty whenever I pass through it.
Out of courtesy, we went to have a word with the churchwarden.
I knocked on the door and was greeted by a rather large, well-endowed lady as it creaked open. Why I suddenly thought about Zeppelins I cannot imagine.
"Er...good morning, my dear. John and I are going to search the little pasture fieldbehind the church. We thought we would let you know in case you wondered what we were up to."
"Oh, how thoughtful of you; though, I have seen you before. Last summer, I used to watch you through my bedroom window, when you were sat on the bales with your shirts off. You must be very fit, walking up and down the field all day. Why don’t you come in for a cup of tea before you start," she seductively suggested as she caressed the doorframe.
We declined the kind invitation and made our way towards the field.
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