An English landowner, demonstrating the utter knobheadedness that only certain members of the upper classes possess, decided to grab what he could of the visible Roman artifacts and then covered the whole site with hundreds of tons of soil - to get a perfect LAWN. Fortunately, his son dug it all back up again and established a museum on the site, which you can still access. These days it's owned by English Heritage, meaning I get in for freeee.
All pics here.
The barracks.
The camp HQ.
The Commander's house.
The bathhouse. Roman soldiers as a rule had a bath every day. I find it amazing and a little terrifying that the Romans had standards of cleanliness that were unsurpassed by the commoners, even in our part of the world until well into the 20th century.
The area down by the river was so peaceful and purdy and and and... sigh. I wonder if the people stationed here found it pretty or if they longed for their southern homes? How many stayed when their service was done? How many passed their genes on to live in these parts more than 1,600 years after their Empire had retreated?
This guy belonged to a couple of elderly Scottish walkers I met. He was frolicking around in the wet grass and the mud, rolling around with joy as only a very dirty dog can.
This little lady was six months old and was put through the ignominy of being toweled down and her paws cleansed with wet wipes. She went bananas with joy when I talked to her, and positively exploded with love and affection when I petted her. Some things are just too cute for words.
From the museum.
You can find anything in the remains of the Romans; from the mightiest of emperors to the saddest of private tragedies.
For most of the distance it runs, this is all you can see of the wall - slightly hightened foundations. In some places, not even as much as this remains.
No comments:
Post a Comment