The study of Geoffrey's book and of the allied Welsh texts is a subject of such complexity, and has produced such a mass of technical literature, that the intrusion of a newcomer into these jealously guarded preserves of recondite scholarship is naturally liable to direct at once the cold stare of disapproval, or at best the wan smile of tolerance upon one so rash. I am not unmindful that in a previous world-conflict Sir (Emeritus Professor) Flinders Petrie put forward views on the Historia from an outsider's standpoint which were instantly demolished in a few quietly incisive notes by Professor R. W. Chambers. But, despite the vast tangle of adherent commentary which now envelops Geoffrey's book to an extent that all too often dwarfs the actual text, it seems likely that certain basic questions—is it a work of fiction or of fact, or if both, in what proportions—should be answerable to some extent by enquiring whether certain passages read convincingly as sheer invention, and if not, what prevented the author from making them so. I hope to show that one can trace in the Historia a use of certain documentary sources which to the best of my knowledge have not been recognized in full before. I venture therefore to put forward these tentative ideas in the hope that they may be followed up or refuted by those more qualified for the task than myself, examining the problem for the first time and from the outside, and in those enforced circumstances in which the only really accessible works of reference are the King's Regulations and the Manual of Military Law. As a contrast it is a pleasure to record my thanks to those who have aided me, notably Professor Ifor Williams, who has given me invaluable advice and helped to eradicate the more egregious errors from my argument.

When and how did urban life in Roman Britain end? The excavations conducted by Philip Barker at Wroxeter from 1966–1990 produced evidence suggesting a post-Roman phase of urban activity that continued into the sixth or seventh century AD, up to 200 years beyond the traditionally accepted chronology. Careful re-examination of the evidence, however, throws doubt on these claims. More recent work on Late Roman Britain coupled with new discoveries in Wales and the west challenges the evidence for the post-Roman survival of Wroxeter as an urban centre and suggests that it may have been largely abandoned, along with other Roman towns, in the late fourth or early fifth century AD.

The criteria used in the British universities' current assessment of research quality prompt the question: how would Gordon Childe have fared, if assessed that way?

In his contribution to the Antiquity debate over the viability of Kohn and Mithen's 'Sexy Handaxe Theory' (1999),Hodgson (2009: 195-8) asserts that 'symmetry is not connected with health and thus cannot have served as a sign of genetic worth'. Because I find his interpretation of the current literature on symmetry and its relationship to health and attractiveness to be flawed, I cannot accept Hodgson's argument. I address each of my concerns below in the first part of this response. I also remain unconvinced that, even if Hodgson's assertion were supported by the literature, it would necessarily follow that symmetry in manufactured objects, including Acheulean handaxes, cannot signal 'sexiness'. In the second part of my response I explain why I consider this to be so.

New finds from the Upper Palaeolithic of Anatolia, and the mineralogical analysis of their colours, extends evidence of a precocious interest in pigments from the western European heartland of Palaeolithic painting into the Near East.

In June this year, we published Geoffrey Wainwright's paper on ‘The Stonehenge we deserve'. This paper aimed to provide a review of progress towards sorting out the many problems of management, presentation and conservation of this World Heritage site and its landscape. As readers of ANTIQUITY are well aware, the fortunes of Stonehenge are intimately linked with politics, money and public opinion, and the long saga of possible solutions to make the site a better place for the future rest on these changing variables. Dr Wainwright outlined past strategies and the hope of future solutions as they were early this year. Already things have changed and the invited responses which we publish here discuss the recent changes of plan for Stonehenge. Baxter & Chippindale review the difficulties of the ‘current’ scheme and its incompatibility with visitor numbers. Fielden exposes the incompatibility of the A303 proposals for Stonehenge with legislation and planning; and Kennet & Young raise the problems of the various Plans and politics.

We sent these responses to Dr Wainwright for his current view of the situation.

One of the most widely-known narratives contained in Judaeo-Christian literature is that of ‘Noah’s Ark and the Great Flood’. The version best known to most English readers is derived from the translation of Genesis VI-VIII contained in the 1611 King James Version of the Bible and its subsequent revisions. According to this account, near the end of the Biblical Deluge, the Ark rested ‘upon the mountains of Ararat’. From this locality, according to the story, the ancestral stock of all terrestrial life, including mankind, left the Ark with the order that they ‘be fruitful and multiply upon the earth’. The Hebrew word which has been transliterated as Ararat in English texts may have been ultimately derived from an expression meaning ‘highlands’, and apparently referred to a region at the headwaters of the Tigris River which lay within the ancient boundaries of the Urartu of Assyrian records (Mellick, 1962).