I meant to post these (some of my mudlark findings) a while ago. Life got in the way, as it is wont to do. I seem to have a problem accepting what it is physically possible to achieve given the constraints, if not set by every click of the clock, then at least those presented by the fact that the world does turn from night into day and round again.
My health seems not to have been so good this year, which sometimes puts the skids under me. It’s frustrating, but maybe I am paying the price of not stopping. Genetically, it must be said that my inheritance is to not know how. I’m not moaning, just musing. It would be churlish to wish that there were more hours in the day, and I probably can’t go any faster. Perhaps the best thing to do is just accept that it is what it is and there’s nothing I, or anybody else, can do about it.
Taken standing on the bank of the Thames at low tide. There’s something rather marvellous about these ten foot high letters being submerged at high tide and surviving time after time to tell the tale.
On another note, after my fossicking amongst the detritus washed up on the Thames beach, I am still wondering if I have contracted Weil’s disease as a consequence. Call me a catastrophist if you wish…
I’ll photograph some of the finds for tomorrow.