You just can't keep Boudica out of the news, which is quite something for the queen of a regional tribe who lived 2,000 years ago. Just this week, the announcement that the most complete example of bronze war horn or carnyx had been unearthed in west Norfolk, was enough to generate more column inches for this heroic figure, forever associated with the ill fated rebellion of the Iceni people against Roman rule in AD 61. I'm reflecting on this as Boom and I mooch along the path

Over the past few days as I wrap-up with ever more layers to defeat the cold, I've been trying to encourage myself that the month of least daylight is now over and that every day takes us closer to spring. However, as I unload the dogs out of the back of the car onto the ice rink that is a supermarket car park, I wonder who I'm trying to kid. Nevertheless, we've been in the car for a couple of hours, delivering copies of Tales from Iceni Territory to Bittern Books to keep the

Just west of Little Abington, Cambridgeshire, a few yards from the river Granta, the land gently rises to a low promontary. The presence of Bronze age barrows (now ploughed out) indicate that this was a place inhabited 3,000 years ago and venerated as a place to inter their dead. Possibly the earliest feature of this site only appears as a crop mark when the conditions are right. A perfect circle or henge which could date from the late neolithic period. This place for gatheri

Travelling to and from Iceni Territory over the spring and and summer is such a regular part of our lives that we don't think too much about it. Just celebrating the ability to breathe easier and know that for a few days at least the accent is on leisure. Now we're into autumn and probably the last visit up to the coast for the year, the feeling is different. We were lucky to dodge storm Amy which swung through last weekend and find Norfolk sitting quietly under a high pressu

I first came across the place known as Black Peak when researching the area around Fowlmere in South Cambridgeshire for Tales from Iceni Territory . I read about evidence of Iron Age occupation of probably the least impressive hill to be named a peak in the the United Kingdom. This low lying rise in the ground sits just west of the village and like so much of the neighbouring countryside is now a featureless field. Black Peak However, the more I understood the topography of t

As Boom and I walk the paths and lanes deep in Iceni territory, we see and hear the regular inhabitants of the trees and hedgerow: robin, dunnock, songthrush, blackbird, wren, chaffinch, blackcap and chiff chaff. Goldfinches hustle about in their chattering groups. Overhead, swallows duck and dive and gulls soar. But as April moves into May and June is on the horizon, where are the willow warblers? They should be easy to see or hear. After all, if you refer to your handy fiel

Storm Darragh has swept across Iceni Territory towards the continent over the weekend leaving a stiff northerly wind whistling in its wake. I'm out with the dogs on the old Roman road running up towards Cambridge. We're here because the dogs need some exercise and the thick hedge to the side of the green lane provides some much needed shelter for that task. Unsurprisingly given the inclement weather, we have the road to ourselves. Just a glimpse here and there of brown feathe

Such has been the poverty of the spring and early summer weather that the chance of a evening stroll through Salthouse marshes accompanied by sunshine has to be taken - even if England are playing football on the television. As ever, the objective is just immersion in an environment that feels more precious with every passing headline about pollution or global warming. I'm expecting to share the moment with the avian residents of the marshes, but a small brown bird perched on

It's been nearly five months since we could spend any time in North Norfolk. With spring in the air, it's good to be back. It's all reassuringly familiar from the slow road from Cambridgeshire tracking as it does, the route of the Peddars Way, to the village of East Runton, snoozing behind the Easter hustle and bustle of the coast. Everything is subconsciously analysed and filed for reference. A new gate here. A new fence there. Rare breed sheep in the field with the donkeys

To call the wind 'fresh' would be an understatement on this early spring day. But the chance to head out through the marshes at Salthouse is precious whatever the weather. Boom is thinking 'swim'. Following the weeks of wet weather, the dykes and scrapes are full to the brim. I'm more focussed on the feathered inhabitants. Undeterred by the wind, a Lapwing performs its aerial ballet, whilst the shovelers, well, shovel. Boom gives me the hurry-up. He doesn't consider standing