I Suddenly Remembered My Charlemagne

Today on the blog, I answer the last of the CURIOSITIES questions and talk about a picture of me, why I love it, and why I love being an archaeologist so much.

Some of this you already know, but here it is anyway.

It's a bad idea because "Come, Tell Me How You Live" makes me cry when I'm happy. But I was thinking about Arthur Evans, and that led to Wheeler, and that led to Woolley, and that led to Mallowan (who is really my favourite anyway), and then I ran straight into Agatha Christie and that poem I adore so much because it's the truth.

Just in case this is the last time I use the jordan tag, I want it to be happy.

I'll tell you everything I can
If you will listen well:
I met at erudite young man
A'sitting on a Tell.
"Who are you sir?" to him I said,
"For what is it you look?"
His answer trickled through my head
Like bloodstains through a book...

Come, Tell Me How You Live

I need to get this poem made into art and put on my wall. Or something. It's kind of long, but I can work on it.