Today I present a BtVS/Time Team crossover, all due to a dream starring Carenza Lewis and a discussion with shapinglight.
I suspect this is meaningless to half my friends list, but you just need to know archaeology is a spectator sport in Britain.
Time Team Special by Bogwitch
“It’s drawing to the end of day three here on Time Team and it’s a race against time to wrap up the dig at this Victorian Cemetery before the developers come in,” says Tony Robinson, flushed from a sprint over rough ground. “What have we discovered?”
Prof. Mick Aston, fearsome in his multi-coloured fright-jumper, probably knitted for him out of remnants of other knitting horrors by some old dear in Shrewsbury, points towards a muddy pit. “If you come over here to trench four, you’ll find Carenza has found something interesting.”
“What is it?” Tony asks, with the kind of enthusiasm that five-year-old boys display when they talk about dinosaurs.
Carenza Lewis stands up in the trench, muddy from her horsey green wellies to her blonde English Rose ponytail. “We’ve been excavating this area of disturbed earth that showed up a lot of noise on the Geophys. There appears to be a grave here, but there’s no sign of an actual burial.”
“That’s bizarre, given the age of this site,” Mick’s birds nest of white hair flails wildly in the wind. “It’s possible this grave was raided by bodysnatchers.”
“Bodysnatchers?” Tony asks with glee.
“Well, they were known to be operative round here in Whitechapel in the 1820’s. This cemetery spans a period from about 1800 to 1900, it’s possible this body was one of those taken.”
“Any finds?” asks Tony, knowing perfectly well that there were, as they’ve repeated this discussion three times already for the camera.
Carenza produces a small Perspex box. Sitting gently among the padding is the porcelain head of a delicate doll, one eye open and the other sealed closed with encrusted grime.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” says Carenza. “It still has the original hair and what look like traces of blood.”
Tony picks up the find and proudly presents it to the camera. “Does this mean we might have a child burial? One that perhaps met a violent end?”
Carenza bends down and starts scraping idly at nothing with her trowel. “We’ve measured the size of the grave and it appears to be adult sized. Oh wait a second…”
Under the anxious gaze of half a dozen archaeologists and a TV presenter with a Baldrick past, she starts to pick away at the dirt around a metallic object. Gently layer-by-layer, a treasure is revealed. Thin gold glints in the soggy ground until enough earth is stripped away to reveal a pair of gentlemen’s spectacles. They’re carefully lifted into another Perspex box and are delivered up to the professor for inspection.
“Oh, look at…” He starts, but is interrupted by an unruly voice from the sidelines.
“Oi! That’s me spot!” says a voice off camera in a shady spot. “And give me back my specs. I’ve been looking for those!”