30. The Lost Year


Yes we are still alive. It really has been a long and hard 18 months – in a first-world-problem kind of way. There literally nothing worse than a blog where every article starts with “sorry I’ve not been posing much lately”, but here I sit pondering how to break the ice over the radio silence imposed by actually having a life. Not the kind of social life insinuated by “get a life” or “get out more”, clearly neither of which we have done since buying this house. The kind of life where you suddenly look at each other, nod your heads and just jump in to a commitment full of challenges and phase changes, moments that bring you closer while tearing you apart. The life that spirals almost out of control, testing your every ability to navigate unknown waters completely but willingly out of your depth. And the kind of life that finally dumps you on the shore of a beautiful, glistening paradise in rags and blistered hands leaving you to realise that you did this – you got there, together.

So here we are emerging blinking into the sunlight of the second spring into the “DA Project” – and it’s almost over. We have a mountain of memories, a pile of photos, a few minor medical conditions and some stories to tell. I felt a little sad I simply couldn’t fit the storytelling into the moment but I’m sure some retrospective cherry-picking of the highs and lows will enable you to vicariously relive the more interesting parts – the historic discoveries, the epic fails, the lessons learned.

What did we find under the kitchen floor?

What is hidden in the chimney breast?

Was there really a convict connection?

Why did we make a portable kitchen?

How did we cope with going 10x over budget?

The answer to one of those questions is gin: lots of gin. Mostly standard Gordons, London or Vickers but some occasional well-earned rewards of Hendricks or Bombay Sapphire. But lets not get technical now. The answers are coming! We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.

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