Oct. 10th, 2010

eilidhsd: (Default)
If you have to have a UTI, the worst place on earth to have one has to be on an archaeological dig.

When it came on, at the start of the week I was one of only three women on the site; the copse of trees I regard as being for my personal use was five miles away; and that leaves the ditches which, to be frank, are only useful if you are under three feet tall.

But, when you have to go, you have to go. So I went; frequently.
As did my concentration. I was still on my knees at one point when the site director shot over all enthusiastic about the burned bone I'd uncovered in the remains of Neolithic hearth - don't know if he realised I was about to chuck it in the spoil bucket. I had not even looked at it, and was too preoccupied to care anyway.

And for reasons too complicated to explain (and anyway, we have forgiven him) we'd had to leave the cars two miles from the site and hike in and out, and by the time I had inspected another ditch or two on the walk out I was mortified.

And the week got worse. Wednesday I "vanished" home; Thursday I got sent home.
Saturday I stayed in bed most of the afternoon, and today I was heading for the Kirk when another bout of incontinence changed my plans again.

And now I am bored. Last night I watched X-factor and this morning I have been on here fighting with the Concert Hall website to get the last two tickets for John Lill playing Tchaikovsky next Saturday rather than face an evening like that again. Assuming I am continent enough to go.

But I am giving me a couple of weeks off the digging until I'm 100% again.
An incontinent archaeologist is no use to anyone.


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