6635/19555
Maybe with my Sophie Hay RHLSTP in the back of my mind, or because I was listening to the audiobook of Mary Beard's SPQR and was considering the childishness of the Caesars, I started thinking about the archaeological digs I was on in the autumn of 1985. I conflated the two (with a bit of additional stuff that didn't actually happen or came from other digs) in my play Excavating Rita.
The first one was a Saxon dig the Meon Valley in Hampshire. It was my first time away from home. My mum and dad dropped me off and I was wearing my best mum-bought sweat shirt and nice trousers when I arrived. I could not have been more out of place.
I think I was on the dig for maybe four weeks, but it's possible it was just two or three. But it was such a significant event in my life that it feels like it went on for months.
Looking back it was an idyllic time where the September sun was shining and the little band of camping archaeologists drank in the pub every night, had earnest philosophical discussions, baked potatoes that had fallen off a truck as it drove past the camp and I fell in love with a Dutch girl called Sue, who was flattered by my attentions, but involved with someone else she'd met on another dig. In the end we spent a fairly innocent night together, both maintaining our virginity.
I left home a boy and when my mum and dad came to pick me up (maybe 20 days later) I had become a slightly less childish boy.
But it was the first step to adulthood and whilst I am sure I was mainly unhappy and confused (because that's basically my default), I look back with great affection.
But the thing that I remembered today and cringed about (there's so much in my life that I look back on with that sense of what was I thinking embarrassment) was my reaction to my dig nickname (which does feature in the play too). There was another guy on the dig called Richard, who seemed like a proper grown up, but was, I suppose, maybe 22. To avoid confusion Sue started calling me Junior, as I was the junior Richard (I don't think the older Richard become Senior, probably staying as Richard). It was affectionate and sweet and not meant in a patronising way.
But at some point (and I think it may have been in letters after the dig, rather than face to face) I took umbrage at her calling me this. And I got a bit pissy and pointed out that Sue was basically the same age as me and that she should stop calling me that. It seems likely that this was some kind of reaction to the realisation that our love wasn't going to make it (we did write letters and exchange gifts for a while, but we never met again). She was a bit hurt by my offence, only a tiny bit, but apologised to me. I should have been apologising, My male pride has seemingly been hurt and I had deliberately misinterpreted something that was inclusive and tried to give it a spin that had not been intended. I guess it was a response to rejection. Not that I had been really rejected as we had no claim on each other and were never going to see each other again. But what a silly way to behave
It wasn't something that had any huge repercussions and it's a minor infraction, but it's something that 35 years later I still feel a mild flush of shame about.
Sorry Sue. Love Junior.
Strange the way something like this can pop into your mind all these years later.
