Portrait of a smiling elderly man wearing a fedora and a brown jacket on a city street.

"Just got back from a dig, and let me tell you, nothing puts the daily grind into perspective like unearthing a five-thousand-year-old artifact. Makes you think about the long haul, doesn’t it? Every day out there is a mixed bag—could be thrilling discoveries or just buckets of dirt. Started this morning as usual, with a sturdy cup of tea, strong enough to wake the dead we’re digging up, ha! But seriously, it’s the little things that keep you going. Breakfast is quick, something on the go, usually fruit, nuts—stuff you can eat with dirty hands. Work in the field is no joke; we're talking early starts and late finishes, the sun beating down, and every brushstroke on the soil could reveal something monumental or nothing at all. It's a gamble, but when you do find something, the rush is unbeatable. I’ve seen things that haven’t been touched by human hands in millennia. Lunch is whatever’s packed and easy to eat under a makeshift shade, usually a sandwich or sometimes just leftovers from the night before. But it’s not all about digging and dirt. There’s a lot of time spent in labs, analyzing findings, piecing together histories from the fragments we uncover. Those days are quieter, more reflective. Dinner’s when I try to shift gears, maybe catch up with friends or dive into a good book to clear my head. Cooking is a sort of meditation for me; I love making risotto—it’s slow, methodical, almost like a dig, layer by layer until the flavors come together just right. And if you ask about my favorite local dish? Well, when I’m back home from a field trip, it’s got to be a proper fish and chips by the harbor. Fresh, simple, with a pint of ale—brings me right back to earth after being lost in the ancient world."