Vindolanda 2021? Excavating in a Plague Year.

For fourteen years my schedule has had an anchor point in the spring.  I went on an archaeology trip overseas.  Usually it was to the Roman site at Vindolanda, up in the north of England.  It was always good times, often good weather and sometimes good archaeology.  It is the sort of thing that sustains you through cold winter months, dreaming of the moment when you first walk through the door of a friendly hostelry, set down the travel bag and stroll over to the bar where old friends are waiting with a pint.

I skipped one year for the remarkable Hill 80 excavation, and of course nobody was going anywhere in April/May of 2020.  So I approached this year's expedition with more than the usual excitement.  I was like a thirsty man in need of a pint.  And a bag of crisps.  Then perhaps a second pint.

The last few months the venture has balanced on a knife's edge.  Covid has proven to be more persistent, more insidious than expected.  Our political leadership both here and in the UK has proven less competent, less insightful than expected.  I could still make it to my appointed excavation period in late April, but at what cost?

Infection rates both here and there are dropping rapidly, and I suspect I could even
manage a dose or two of vaccine (or "jabs" as my UK pals call them) before embarking.  But it would make no difference.  The rules are still, five days of self quarantine then a negative test before you are allowed out into the sunshine, or perhaps the grey drizzle, of England.  Well OK, I can do five days.  It is impossible by the way to not approach this from the perspective of a crook evaluating whether he can "do the time".  But it's not that easy.  The day of your arrival does not count.  You can only test after day five and then you are still in the Greybar Hotel until a negative result emerges from the clanky inefficiency of the UK health system.  It could easily be 8 days.  The implications of a false positive or indeterminate test result do not bear consideration even with a pint in hand.

Oh, its not the money.  Last year's cancelled trip left me with a big credit with the airline, and I actually want to support local businesses both here and there.  Also, to be honest, as a retired person with a frugal lifestyle Covid has not been much of a financial challenge.  Our feckless leadership has, in bipartisan fashion, continued to send out stimulus checks even to those of us who have no particular need of them.  I donated the first one to the local family support center.  If there is another coming along I'll donate it to the robotics program.  In a move that would appall the Current Administration I spent the one in between to buy myself a deer rifle at the local gun store.  Probably that's not the local business support they had in mind.

But it's that extra week sitting in dismal solitude.  I might read War and Peace.  I would probably take on a dedicated program of work on the CAD program I am supposed to know well.  I have ideas for a blog post series that would essentially be an absurdist novella featuring the lost adventures of Badger Trowelsworthy.  But the madness would probably start to show.

And also on the cost side of the ledger, I'd likely miss my grandson's first T-ball game ever.  I'd start my digging season cranky and out of shape.  It sounds as if we'd not even be allowed to gather at the pub for the traditional Jet Lag Drinks Hour or any subsequent evenings of celebration or consolation.  The exchange rate - and I'm not talking dollars to pounds - is unfavorable in 2021.

I brewed a batch of English ale a few weeks back.  I'm getting ready to open one and try it out.  I had hoped to put on a nice label that looked like this:

But sadly, this might be more appropriate to the circumstances.

So it appears that instead of setting out for adventures far afield in six weeks I'll just be sitting at home, sorrowfully raising a glass of Reality Extra Bitter Ale in the general direction of Hadrian's Wall, while trying to find minor diversions closer to home in an attempt to stave off the madness of a second year of Covid restrictions.