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<p>[QUOTE=&quot;Burton Strauss III, post: 8303260, member: 59677&quot;]It&#039;s amazingly hard work. When I was in Uni, they had a summer archeology dig with a UK University and they were willing to take an engineer to make up the numbers.</p><p><br /></p><p>I had a blast, but they quickly found my level of skill and I spent most of the 3 weeks carrying buckets of recovered tile up to the wash station (we found the spoil pile from the monastery&#039;s industrial site that summer). Those buckets were HEAVY.</p><p><br /></p><p>Although the best was when we were digging in the graveyard. The monks had very little use for the mortal remains (the souls were already taken care of) and so they buried them without headstones or really much care. We (and by we I mean the people who knew what they were doing - my role consisted of carrying buckets of dirt to the screens) had removed two bodies leaving a small area between them, oh, about 9&quot; wide.</p><p><br /></p><p>The deputy head of the dig said &quot;Oh, there&#039;s nothing in there, I&#039;ll take it out with a pickaxe&quot;. Three swipes and CRUNCH.</p><p><br /></p><p>Which now triggers the reversion to archeology. Gently removing dirt with small tools, revealing an unexpected set of remains.</p><p><br /></p><p>UNFORTUNATELY, the next day was the open house for the town folk. All morning people would file past the graveyard and see the damaged skull in full glory. Sixty times that morning you heard &quot;Look there Harry, that bloke&#039;s been pickaxed&quot;.</p><p><br /></p><p>By 9:30 am the deputy head of the dig had taken to her caravan for a lie-down. The rest of us made it to 11 when we headed down the road for a well deserved pint (or 3).[/QUOTE]</p><p><br /></p>

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