After spending Friday night there courtesy of the fine folk at the  Theakstons Old Peculier Crime Writing Festival, I’m hoping some of the Christie magic has rubbed off. If not, there were plenty of living crime writers around to learn from.  (Husband has just winced at this ungrammatical sentence construction. Apologies to anyone who objects to ending a sentence with a preposition. As Winston Churchill is alleged to have said, ‘that is something up with which I will not put.’ ) Meanwhile, back in Harrogate…  

I especially enjoyed a panel discussion between ‘gritty’ and ‘cosy’ authors – turns out the ‘gritty’ folk are surprisingly unscary and the ‘cosy’ ones aren’t as soft in the centre as you might think. Outside the formal events, there was time to wander the middle of town enjoying a game of spot-the-author. Unfortunately this had to be abandoned early on Friday evening for a solitary and desperate game of spot-the-open-shoeshop. (The result of packing at the last minute, very late at night.)

 More rushing about meant the chance to catch a few hours in York before driving home.  In Museum Gardens they were announcing

 Possibly they were referring to this, on a hoarding outside the nearby Yorkshire Museum:

 but ‘The New Yorkshire Museum opens on 1 August’  wasn’t especially good news for those of us who hadn’t done our homework, and turned up in July.  Still, there’s no shortage of things to see in York. I will restrain any urge to wax lyrical about the apsidal end of the legionary bath house in the cellar below this pub, but it really is rather good…

Regular visitors to the blog may recall discussions about the presence of Africans in Roman York. So it’s entirely appropriate that crowds had gathered just down the road to hear a superb music-and-dance group from Zimbabwe (who may or may not be called Siyaya):

Vowing to return when the museum’s open, I spent most of the long drive down the motorway happily listening to Ian Rankin’s gripping novel, ‘The Complaints’. Today an official letter arrived. Seems I was so gripped by Ian Rankin that I failed to notice the speed limit.

 It’s been an interesting weekend.

Just spent the afternoon enjoying the spectacular English Heritage Festival of History over at Kelmarsh Hall.

It’s always fascinating to be in the company of people who love what they do, and consequently do it very well indeed. Sadly the same can’t be said for my attempts to capture the atmosphere on video, which portray variously:

1) an empty field

2) The distant tail end of the Roman Army marching out of frame

3) The Roman Army marching three paces and then halting in mid-step.

There are a few marginally more competent photographs across on the  Facebook page.

I completely forgot to photograph the beautiful display of Roman medical instruments laid on by Steve Wagstaff and partner Fiona, but am  now the proud owner of a reproduction Roman cataract needle. (Gruesome, or what?)

Meanwhile, having sized up all the options on offer, Husband has declared that he fancies being a Viking. Evidently you can be hairy and shout a lot. If that weren’t fun enough, there’s always the prospect of a little pillage.

Just a reminder that should any kind reader be passing through Cambridge between 6 and 8 pm this evening, Heffers in Trinity Street will be stuffed with more crime writers and readers than one would have thought possible.  But there will always be room for one more – details are here.

At the moment stocks of  ‘Ruso and the Disappearing Dancing Girls’* are pretty much sold out. Apologies to the people who’ve tried to get hold of it and can’t, but the nice people at Penguin say it should be available again by the end of the month.

*that’s the UK edition of Ruso and Tilla’s first adventure.

Now that’s what I call enterprising. Meanwhile, some of us were hard at work back in the trenches.

"You mean I was supposed to find something down here?"

It’s a great place  to fire the imagination (Butser, that is, not Facebook). They run a full programme of workshops and events, but it’s also a pleasure to wander aimlessly around the site, enjoy the relative peace in which our ancestors used to live, and mull over what’s been lost and gained over the last two thousand years in the name of progress.

On the way out we were surprised to spot a photo of another ancient curiosity on the shop noticeboard.

The large collection of babies’ skeletons has been known about for years, but what its existence ‘proves’ remains a matter of debate – which of course makes it all the more fascinating. BBC 2 will be running programmes on the finds in July and August, although this article doesn’t say when. If anybody knows, please share the dates with the rest of us!

It’ll be interesting to see what the latest examinations of the skeletons reveal. Can’t help hoping we’ll just be presented with more questions…

One of the veteran diggers was so excited, she  forgot that sitting in front of a computer for eleven months of the year is not ideal training for spending several hours a day bending at odd angles and shifting large quantities of soil.

So, two new discoveries  – archaeology and osteopathy.

Can”t make it to any of them? No need to feel left out. Jane Finnis is running a celebration over on her blog with, as she flatteringly puts it:

“a star-studded list of mystery authors joining me as blog guests throughout the week. Ruth Downie, Amy Myers, Donna Fletcher Crow, and first off, Tuesday’s author, Dolores Gordon-Smith.

They have three important things in common: they write mysteries with very strong historical connections, they’ve got new books out, and their books are unputdownable.

They’ll be telling us about their work, their settings and characters, the fascination of the eras they’ve chosen…and that’s not all. Do you know what the Romans believed they could cure with frogs’ ashes smeared on with pitch? Can you guess what, or who, was the Newgate Knocker? Drop by during the week, and you’ll discover the answers.”

For a writer, getting out of the house and actually meeting people is so exciting that by the end of the week my mouth was outpacing my brain. Apologies to the ladies who had to stand and wait while I tried to figure out how to subtract £12 from £20 on Saturday afternoon, and who politely rejected my offer of £23 change.

In stark contrast, it was a joy to be able to catch up with the latest developments at Hampshire’s Butser Ancient Farm. Anyone who watched the delivery of three little pigs a couple of weeks ago on ‘Countryfile’ will be pleased to hear they’re doing well – here they are. For those who care about that sort of thing, they’re a Tamworth/wild boar cross.

Butser Ancient Farm is experimental archaeology writ large, and on a fine summer’s day it makes the Iron Age seem a delightful place to live. (Let’s not spoil things by imagining how different it must be in the depths of February.)

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