I am currently not in sunny Franconia but in an undisclosed location on an island, ultima Thule.
A nice little side-project, if causing perspiration. Only problem so far are the inhabitants, perhaps I should not have greeted with a hearty “Hey-hooo aboriginies!” It could be possible that my trusted travel guide (Berlin 1938) may be a little bit outdated after all.
Sadly my trusted copy of HROUDAs Methoden der Archäologie fell in the mud very shortly after my arrival. Who’d thought that I would need it ever again ?
A nice lady came by and asked me a lot of questions, I do not know whether my papers convinced her about the rightfulness of this little dig, we’ll see. She mentioned a “mouthpiece”, but I found it hard to follow while drilling through the tar. The plan is simple enough – dig, grab, run. The sound of a kind of lawnmower or something is a bit irritating, they may take their love affair with manicured lawn a bit too far here. On the other side – I’m standing in a muddy pit filled with cold book-eating mud. I think they call it “mog” here. Makes manicured lawn look very desirable.
First results will be announced soon. Enough for this evening, I have to search for a bottle of beer or something, Silvaner may be out of reach in Mogland.