Ever dreamt of catching a glimpse of those gems of human making that were irretrievably obliterated by time? An English historian is given a singular chance to do so, except that an implement that is by all means disquieting was required to do so.
‘Nathaniel Ager is my name and England is my nation, Seaburgh is my dwelling-place and Christ is my Salvation, When I am dead and in my grave, and all my bones are rotton, I hope the lord will think on me when I am quite forgotton.’