Dirty Diggers: Tales From the Archaeological Trenches by Bahn Paul

Author:Bahn, Paul
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781315430430
Publisher: Taylor & Francis Ltd

THE DEMON DRINK

There are countless stories about archaeologists and an excess of alcohol—indeed for many years an addiction to booze has been one of the hallmarks of the profession! Some can hold their liquor better than others …

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For example, the late Michael Grierson Jarrett once said “It has been noted that many eminent archaeologists are alcoholic. I think I’m becoming eminent!”

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During the excavations by Stuart Piggott and Richard Atkinson at Stonehenge in the 1950s, the nearest pub was five miles away. In an interview with an American journalist Piggott was asked “What is your biggest problem here, Professor Piggott?” and he replied “Thirst!”

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A very posh British archaeologist turned up to give an early morning lecture after a particularly alcoholic evening. “I say, I wonder if somebody would mind putting out that frightfully bright light at the back.” It was then pointed out to him that this was, in fact, the slide projector.

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Roger Mercer was excavating in Dorset, with everyone living under canvas. A large team of diggers from Poland came over to take part in the work, bringing with them litre-bottles of transparent fluid—they had persuaded the customs officers that they were filled with water! But of course it was vodka, and particularly strong vodka at that, and it helped to liven up the excavation quite considerably. On the first day, the lecturer in charge of the Polish students invited Roger to come to his tent, presented him with a very large glass of the transparent fluid, and began to make a speech. Roger lit a cigarette, but the Pole immediately shouted “No Smoking”—the vodka was so strong that, if one merely passed a cigarette over it, it would burst into flames and destroy the tent!

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Gerhard Bosinski also has vivid memories of an encounter with vodka. “It was August 1989. Valeri and I were sitting in the plane to Novosibirsk. Valeri had vodka. In Novosibirsk Anatoli was waiting for us. We drove to his flat. Tatjana had made supper. Olga from California was already there, too. And then there was also Anatoli’s big dog, which looked like a St. Bernard or Newfoundland. There was good vodka in glasses meant for water. Being a weak Westerner, I asked to be allowed to drink only half measures, which was permitted. However, even this proved too much. In the morning I woke up in my hotel room; my carefully folded clothes and neatly lined up shoes were proof that I had been put to bed. What a disgrace for me as a representative of West European scholarship. In the morning I was to chair the discussion. So, there was no avoiding it, I had to get up. I ran into Valeri in the foyer of the conference building.

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