Friday 9 March 2018

Archaeology is rubbish

Archaeology 'is' rubbish, no, really, that's what it is. As an archaeologist I was trained to recover, analyse and interpret the remains of the material culture (literally the rubbish most times) left behind by previous human societies in order to better understand their society, culture and technology.  From the shell middens of coastal foragers, the feasting waste of our prehistoric forebears, through domestic waste dumped in pits and ditches during the Roman and Middles ages, to the manuring of fields and the development modern rubbish tips, the disposal of waste has always been a problematic necessity and a gold mine for archaeologists. And even though it's thought of as a modern disease, throughout the ages folk have littered, just dumped their shit. When out walking I've always been  a collector of rubbish, mumbling obscenities as I stuff others discarded crap into a bag. Then a few years ago it dawned on me that I had become a sort of anti archaeology archaeologist, depriving future professionals of research resources. Hmmm. It was then that I decided not to, in most cases, collect up bottles anymore (I still collect the other shit), leave some past to found in the future.  I chose bottles as they're stable-ish and even if plain can be a good source of dating information, though they're even better with writing on. Take this bottle thoroughly wedged amongst the roots of a forest tree, it's decorated with a band of stippling and you can read 'Quencher Drinks' around the bottom of it. From that I discovered that 'Quencher' was a Southampton company, the bottle's possibly late 19th early 20th century and that it probably contained some form of 'pop'. At first I'd imagined it was left by a day tripper to the forest. Or was it?  With a bit of investigation I learned of new possibilities. Where it was found is close to Lyndhurst's old Race course, closed during the latter quarter of the 19th century, by 1891 an 18 hole golf course prospered (still does), from 1922 it was the site of the pony sales,  and during both world wars troops were billeted and trained here.  The list of possible culprits is as endless, as littering is timeless.

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