It's been a few days, but I've been researching. Not really much to write about on that front.
Although, what is with moldy books?? Are libraries furious with me for not following in my mother's footsteps (she's a librarian) or for abandoning research for the joys of fieldwork? Of all the molds I'm allergic to, the mold that grows in British Museum catalogues is possibly the worst. Right up there with back-filled squares of molding hay, if nothing else.
But what can you do?
'Round these parts a hermetically sealed library is a great idea, but impractical. The cost of trying to suck the humidity out of the air would put you in the poor house. I was in a humidity controlled room the other day and the SOUND the machine made when it came on was incredible. The intake vent could have sucked my head right into it if I hadn't made sure to stand well clear. But at least the humidity was at 18%. I've spent longer periods of time in a dryer storage facility and my knuckles cracked and my lips bled afterwards. Ugh, who knew you needed to bring lip balm and hand lotion when viewing old stuff??
Anyway, I'm getting side-tracked. I was pouring over books and sneezing wildly for a few days. Then found everything else I needed on the internet. I then confirmed my findings with a known professional, always a good plan. Finally, I am spending some time doing the odds and ends that one has to do when doing research. Like turn notes that say "see M for #388, BMC??" into English. And delete all the "WHAT THE F(*#&$ IS THIS S#*$U???" which often turns up in my drafts.
Is the excitement wearing you out? You look tired.... oh, no, that's just boredom, my mistake.
Anyway, I'm flying out on Sunday, back to Denmark, where I will decompress and then once again shift brain gears. At the moment I can't even think about the things I have to do when I get back, as I'm too busy thinking about the things I need to do here.
I did, however, get in a trip to the beach. Woot! I put on a bathing suit, but didn't go in. I'm not really one for getting into the water. I much prefer to play in the sand. And people watch. Here's the beach, with ancient ruins (the whole hill there is a ruin, it's a tel site, one of those places where superimposed cities create a hill over time) and modern power plant, and some beach folk who thought it was a good idea to pitch tents on a windy beach. They must be well staked (THE TENTS you weirdos!), because those tents didn't move an inch over the hours we were there. Nor did the wind die down. (We were behind a wave breaker further up and so didn't have the gale these guys did.)
It was a good break before the last push to get stuff done. Tonight we feast! Tomorrow I do more meet-and-compare-notes and then I pack up and leave the hot. Back to the cold. Back to pork and cheese-and-meat and my beloved Dane, who will not be getting his favorite brand of hair cream, which I have lovingly brought back for him for years now, because it cannot be found in all the places I have looked and I am out of time to look in other places.
My favorite moment in the hair cream search: talking to a lovely young scarfed pharmacist if she carried this cream. "Why not this cream?" she said, holding up the bottle. "No," I said, "I'm buying this for my husband and he was most specific." She gave me the most knowing nod EVER. Husbands, the impossible species.
Anyone know a good hair cream in Denmark for short VERY thick, wavy hair that seems to be a tad on the dry side?