The Power Behind the Throne: Key Personalities in Ancient Egyptian History
Dr. Campbell Price, Colin Reader and Sarah Griffiths explore who really pulled the strings in the ancient Egyptian court, from the Old Kingdom through to the end of the Late Period. Find out more about the lives and times of some of the most famous ancient Egyptian celebrities such as Imhotep and Senenmut and meet some of the lesser known powerful personalities of the Pharaonic era.
The study day will be held at the Longfield Suite, Prestwich from 9:30am to 4:30pm, Saturday 21st March. There will be a raffle for charity, book auction to raise funds for MAES and a fun photo-spotting competition.
Tea / coffee / biscuits provided morning and afternoon. You need to make your own lunch arrangements, but there are lots of places in the shopping centre…
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Like so many seemingly unassuming objects, this small (25 x 11 cm) black granite offering table carries an interesting back-story. It comes from the excavations of W.M. Flinders Petrie at the site of Gurob, the ‘harem’ complex used to house royal women and children in part of the New Kingdom (c. 1400-1200 BC). Manchester Museum holds many objects from Petrie’s excavations at Gurob, which is currently being reinvestigated by a joint project of the Universities of Liverpool, Copenhagen and UCL.
One of the most famous finds to have come from the site is a small ebony head of Queen Tiye, the chief wife of Amenhotep III (c. 1390-1352 BC), now in Berlin. It is likely that the queen spent a lot of time at Gurob, and the inscription on our offering table suggests she lived here as ‘Queen Mother’ after her husband’s death.
The hieroglyphs read:
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and i read my Emily Dickinson, and you your Robert Frost! 😉
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening By Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
In the pasture I see him once again
For his jacket is blood orange
Standing in knee-deep snow
Leaning over a barb-wire fence
In the throes of death, forgotten
I peer into his vanished dreams
Fury wells up as a flame
Recognizing the void of compassion
Hardly cares he for his own ailment
For the demon stabbed his soul
Almost resigned and yet,
A small fire of hope in his eyes
She must rekindle life.