In Northumberland it doesn't even go before councillors, as I've found out to my cost. A whole long cairn, fed into a rock crusher, to make a half kilometre road, five metres wide, about half a metre deep, and the county archaeologist can't be bothered to take a look, until after it's gone. All the while I'm on a death threat from Britain's seventy second richest person aka the now late White Sultan.
(On a brighter note - does anyone suppose that modern antiquarians have been infiltratated by undercover police, and if so what are their names and on what street do they live?)
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