Well, I’ll never be accused of approaching this half-heartedly. I’m supposed to be finishing a chapter of my thesis (on witchcraft in Renaissance drama) for submission as part of my transfer of status — a hurdle that allows one to shift from a provisional researcher to a fully fledged DPhil candidate here at Oxford.
Instead, over the last two weeks I have ordered a pile of books on detecting here in the UK (and prospecting in the States). I have sent to my parents’ place a drywasher, highbanker, panning kit, six classifiers, a blue bowl concentrator, blue bowl leg levellers, a Fossicker’s Maverick pan, two jewellers’ loupes, tweezers, a tool roll (for the tweezers, etc.), coin probe, and a Whites GMT detector with SunRay Gold headphones and a Garrett detector bag.
To my place in Oxford I have ordered two secondhand detectors, a C-Scope CS3MX and a Garrett AT Pro International, waterproof headphones for the AT Pro and Garrett Master Sound phones for the CScope, a console cover for the CScope, two spades, a sand scoop, spade carrier, collapsible shovel, Lesche Digging Tool, Garrett Retriever pick, Mechanix gloves, Hunter Wellies, a Wellie Carrier (!), three sets of Wellington socks, a generic tool pouch, two detector bags, a harness for the AT Pro, A Garrett ProPointer handheld detector for isolating small finds in the hole, waterproof notebook with three permanent pens, membership in the British Goldpanning Association, the Weekend Wanderers Detecting Club, the National Council of Metal Detectorists, a Port of London Authority Mudlarking permit, and other things I no doubt will have forgotten.
Even to me this seems a tad obsessive.