Well, that cements it (no pun intended).....I definitely don't want to be an archaeologist when I grow up.
I've just spent an entire afternoon gently digging and brushing away at a half-house-brick-sized block of plaster to unearth remains of a T-Rex.
No, I've not gone mad (I know a T-Rex is much bigger than a house brick).
It was a kit purchased for my 6-year-old from the 'learning' department of Toys R Us (yes, they do have one, it's tucked away behind the ridiculously-priced plastic aisle and the mindless, pointless games area, next to the assorted weaponry and replica arms aisle).
The idea is to meticulously scrape, carefully chip and painstakingly brush away the plaster to gradually unearth the remains of a mini T-Rex. My six-year-old was bored after an hour (he did well) and went off to attack his brother with a light saber. After two hours of barely scratching the surface, I resorted to soaking the plaster block in the kitchen sink then hacking away with the bread knife. I stopped short of hurling it on to the patio, my OCD couldn't have coped with the aftermath.
So, archaeology not clearly in my blood....although I do have quite a lot of the plaster stuck behind my nails, but I don't think that counts.
Anyway, on the subject of old stuff, blimey Rome is full of it isn't it!?
Maybe not Jurassic old but really, really old nonetheless.
I'm not sure there's much more I can say without sounding like a plebeian, not being a learned theologian or historian or culturian (which a squiggly red underline suggests isn't even a word. Pah, what does Google know?!)
Anyway, if pleb means 'commoner' (in ancient Rome) then I was right at home and thus feel qualified to comment.....
On our return from our mini-jaunt to the historic city, an Italian friend asked what was the highlight of our trip. Well, I pondered for a few moments. So much to choose from; the incomprehensibly ancient walls of the Colosseum, the architectural marvel of the Pantheon roof, the breathtaking scale of St Peter's Basilica, the serene beauty of the cascading water at the Trevi Fountain?
"Ah yes," I replied, "my highlight was bartering a street seller down to €10 for a fake Prada handbag and a Burberry scarf at the top of the Spanish steps."
Hey, a girl's gotta shop!!
Rome is beautiful. The city was literally heaving with tourists and ever-present pestering scarf and trinket sellers at every turn and several monuments were shrouded in scaffolding and mesh but, apart from that, the city IS beautiful and we got to see the Pope himself!
As someone who ashamedly messed about
a lot in history lessons, I apologise is advance for admitting that my lasting memories of Rome do not lay in the unfeasibly sturdy walls erected centuries ago or the meticulous carvings and paintings created from the crudest of materials and tools by the most talented of hands.
As a passionate observer of human life, there were other things that caught my attention.
Like the Roman drivers.
If you've been, you'll know what I mean.
If not, then let me explain. It seems in Rome that using the mobile phone whilst driving is compulsory. Even if you've got nothing to say, you still need to phone a friend when you get in the car.
However..... I actually believe (apart from this), they've got driving right. They just get on with it, survival of the bravest. There are no road markings, no respect for fellow road users, few traffic lights, no speed cameras, in fact, no distractions. They just drive, simples. They are alert, focused and keep their eye on the road and it works. In the UK, we're so busy checking for constantly varying speed limits, lines and signs here, there and everywhere, flashing lights, bollards and humps, there's no wonder we're all running into each other.
My other lasting memory of Rome is not for the faint-hearted, or those eating lunch.
We were sat on an open-top bus enjoying the sights when we paused for for the driver to nip into a museum for a 'comfort break'.
As I gazed around at the majestic buildings and beautiful blue Autumn sky, I noticed an old lady at a busy road junction. At first I wondered what on earth she was doing. Then the penny dropped (no pun intended).
She was, as tourists milled around her and traffic queued up at the junction alongside her, also taking comfort break, or (please excuse my French) taking a dump!
She had her skirt hoiked up around her waist and was in the process of completing her ablutions. She had a large roll of kitchen roll and was winding off handfuls, having a good old scrub, taking a look, then throwing the soiled paper on to (another) huge pile on the pavement.
Shocked, I pointed her out to Gary who's only comment was: "Blimey, and I thought you used a lot of paper."
Of course, we mock, but this poor lady was clearly homeless, living on the streets when she desperately needed to be cared for by somebody. It seems in Rome, there's money to meticulously clean the walls of St Peter's but not enough the give a home and dignity to someone who has fallen on hard times. Just a couple of streets away, in Via Condotti, I saw a lady pay €1,450 for a small brown handbag (adorned with lots of LVs).
I'm not sure if Rome has got its priorities right when it comes to equality and respect for its people and perhaps a little too much fiscal attention is paid to crumbling walls.
I'll end with a couple of Daniel/Teddy howlers.
Daniel: "Come and watch my new card trick mum...."
Me: "Wow, Daniel, that's brilliant. Tell me how you do it."
Daniel: "No, daddy said I shouldn't tell anyone."
Me: "Well yes, but I'm your mum."
Daniel, deadpan, before walking away: "Yes, and he's my dad."
Daniel: "We learnt about Guy Fawkes at school today."
Teddy, who had not been listening: "Eh, you learnt about Sky Sports? That's not fair!! We just did boring history."
Like mother like son.
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| Blimey, good job we didn't wear our Victorian bathing suits, we wouldn't have been allowed in the Vatican. |
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| One man and his whistle..... |
