Apart from the giant ‘fuck you and your complete ignorance of a lot of army make-up throughout history’ when they said that ‘the presence of both sexes rules out the skeletons being warriors/army or a priesthood’, I spent a large amount of time rolling my eyes when it got onto the actual use of Stonehenge.
A few years back they started talking about the fact that the area around
Stonehenge for most of the year was tiny population and then became ground zero for the solstice festivals in these programs.
The analysis of pig teeth and human teeth showed how far people had come from and where. How many people. The short period of time the site was used for each year. The fact that so much food was being consumed and roasted up that loads was being thrown away. The rubbish. The sheer amount of preparation that went into this. Stonehenge being a destination for partying/observance. and that all this was AMAZING and UNIQUE.
To which I sit here and go ‘None of you fuckers excavating and analysing come from a festival town, do you?’
I come from Reading, in Berkshire. For the past several decades we’ve hosted a music festival on the last weekend of August and been doing it longer than most. Thousands of people descend from all over Britain and the world, party their heads off for a few days, then go home, a lot poorer, covered in paint, mud, clutching some utterly random souvenir and unbelievably hungover. The town has been doing this for so long that we have a system for doing this. The locals actually work on auto-pilot - the construction of the site starts in late spring/early summer, the supermarkets get stock in and re-arrange, the barriers and signs go up, etc. Locals not working the festival stay out of town for the weekend, the festival goers leave, the site gets cleaned up. This happens every year. Around the world and across the millennia of human civilisation, there have been festival towns where a big fuck-off festival happened once a year or every couple of years where people descend to party. San Diego for Comic-Con. Olympus. Mecca. Leeds. Glastonbury.
Seriously. I was ticking off every item they talked about and going 'Well, duh?'
'They travelled for a month with all these goods!'
'They do that.'
'The sheer amount of food consumed!'
'Partied solid for three days!'
'It was a tiny village that somehow accommodated a population explosion!'
'You have the cash, we have the experience.'
'You want it disorganised?'
'What part of festival town DO YOU NOT GET?'
Wonder Woman is GLORIOUS and horrific and family quabbles on an epic scale of beings that are *not like you* and the horror end of Greek mythology and I’m in love. Also, Diana, when not actively fighting or about to start one and is just hanging around or having a cuppa in a cafe, shoves her tiara up as a headband and wears a coat over the bathing suit. There are a few of these coats, but there is a distinct fondness for white, funnel necks and short burberry-style macs. verrrrry stylish, a distinct look and makes so much sense for someone who doesn’t have a secret identity and is always battle ready. *spoiler* the bracers she wears? Actually cage her power. Remove them and it, er, escalates a tad into the glowing eyes and crackling power around her, which fits for the whole god and demi gods only being human shaped thing the current run has.
Batwoman: oh, it was complex and interwoven and double-crossing and FAMILY and learning and limits and pushing through them and fucking up and learning and PTSD all round and broken and recovering and coming back harder and how being a military family fucks your reactions to normal life and paranoia levels and sneaking and creepy and spooky and haunted house and… then DC pissed off JH Williams and Blackman one time too many and they left, leaving the entire DEO storyline and Batman hunt dangling. And the issue after that is … generic Gotham tinged vigilante heist and washed out pale copies of our characters that are *nothing* like the ones we knew, don’t even speak or react like them. Kate and Bette are not Nightwing and Spoiler on a bouncy day, Andreyko. Sorry.
The thing about catching up in chunks is noticing all the ads. Aside from the really annoying new 52 newsreader update at the end of each issue - which is annoying, we’re not going to pick up stuff with a two second gossip-style newsbite on every character in the ‘verse but easy to skip. Preview short stories at the back, yes, not a 60 second news update. And there are a *lot* of adverts for crossover/theme months. …Villains month? seriously? How is that different from usual aside from the likelihood of random villain popping in and not having owt to do with the currently running storyline? and crossovers tend to be more annoying than anything, because you suddenly have this issue where nothing makes sense with story arcs beginning in a comic elsewhere that you don’t get. Which doesn’t smack of gimmick desperation at all, honest.
A tale of Arthur and Merlin on their latest reincarnation as avatars of Britain. Only they're not sure what they're supposed to be averting this lifetime given that they're running a café in a seaside town in Cornwall. Still, at least it can't be as weird as that time Arthur was a plumber.
The most that's happened to it is that it was spellchecked, and will probably contain my usual levels of getting sidetracked by utterly random things.
Who grinned at life in empty joy,
Slept soundly through the lonesome dark,
And whistled early with the lark.
In winter trenches, cowed and glum,
With crumps and lice and lack of rum,
He put a bullet through his brain.
No one spoke of him again.
You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye
Who cheer when soldier lads march by,
Sneak home and pray you'll never know
The hell where youth and laughter go.
Suicide in the Trenches, Siegfried Sassoon.
All food (and crockery) is communal; stuff is cooked, the plate is then passed around the group or put in the centre. Plate is also re-used if stuff is done in portions (eg bacon sandwiches). Cook’s word is law. You also feel a bit like you’re yelling ‘come to the cookhouse door!’
Each night, when saying goodnight, especially if wending your way through the tents as everyone’s getting ready for bed, someone will start the ‘G’night John Boy.’ patter. Even if none of us have ever seen the original show.
Keeping stuff dry is actually *more* pressing than keeping stuff clean. You can clean something quickly, though that normally waits until the last minute - and is also communal. Drying takes *forever*.
The frying pan and grill were a major step in human evolution.
Wasp hunting and trapping is a way of life and a continual pasttime.
Books are nice but you’ll never manage to read more than a few pages at a time before someone’s interrupting you.
Gazebos/shelters you can stand up and congregate in (preferably with a table and seats) during rain: worth their weight in gold.
Jane: *patpat* 'But good AUs.'
(apparently I wrote canon in Torchwood and I used to write it in Angel. only the Torchwood would be case fic, so...)
had a drought since I completed Daughter of the Dragonlord, aside from not-really-going anywhere future bits which normally involve a lot of angsting and spinning wheels as expansion bits normally do for me. I know they're crap, it gets them out of my head. (these were mostly Mithian going 'I'm marrying Arthur and ohhh shit how's Merlin going to take this no matter how much she's avowed that she likes me and has no romantic interest in my husband-to-be she's had his firstborn'.) Then wrote a bit of angst about Ben and Keira from my Infernal Affairs-MI13 verse. In desperation and wanting to write something that wasn't wheel-spinning angst, flicked through notebooks to look for those one-line ideas I sometimes write at the top of pages. This morning one went 'so, if we take *this* and add that old fic idea...'
Yeah. So pondering Exploring Officer Charles and Raven. He's an adrenaline junkie telepath! She's a shapeshifter! Back home they're the oh-so-respectable brother-and-sister Xaviers, mostly concerned with parties! Together, they gather intelligence in the Peninsular Wars!
And yes, Erik and Charles totally had a torrid affair back in London, only Erik thought he was a complete fop who he really shouldn't have been that fond of, given how shallow and spoilt Charles was and Erik's permanent outsider status in society as Eastern European Jewish. Cue him coming across Charles and Raven in a foxhole.
:headdesk: oh dear lord, now I'm suddenly getting bits from that original regency fic I wrote where the couple couldn't stop arguing in public but had got engaged in secret ages ago...