Thickest closer to their points and tapered towards their far ends they are the work of beings clever

Thickest closer to their points and tapered towards their far ends, they are the work of beings clever enough to understand the principles behind the javelin.We can say with confidence that the next few years will see equally remarkable discoveries, which will doubtless alter our understanding of how we came to be what we are. But, if that understanding changes so fast, is it really worth very much? Are we not just telling stories; imposing our contemporary prejudices upon the past?Exploring human evolution is certainly a way of reflecting upon the modern human condition, and stories about our prehistory reflect the mood of the times. The thousands of hand axes now in museums may not therefore be much of a guide to their makers’ mental capacities.On the other hand, the three spears unearthed from a brown-coal mine at Schoningen, in Germany, are clearly not the work of dim-wits. They worked in the same way as men’s formal suits, which offer accurate guides to their wearers’ wealth and status precisely because the range of styles and colours is so limited, making it possible to compare like with like. This uniformity was sustained for a million years, inducing the anthropologist Mary Leakey to dismiss Homo erectus as “that dim-witted fellow”.Together with Steven Mithen, an evolutionarily minded archaeologist, I have put the argument that these hand axes were held constant in form because they served as criteria for mate choice. The stone artefacts of that era, which are pretty much all we’ve had to go on until now, are actually distinguished by their lack of variety. Researchers have announced the discovery of the oldest stone tools yet found, dating back two and a half million years, and of the first DNA sequences extracted from Neanderthal bones.We have also gained striking evidence that hominids who were around the best part of half a million years ago had a very sophisticated capacity for functional design.

I started keeping a log of such announcements while I was working on my recent book As We Know It: coming to terms with an evolved mind. Some of the claims, it is true, crumbled almost as quickly as they had arisen, but that’s all part of the fun. The tests and arguments applied to claims about the ages of bones or ancient drawings have recently attained a level of sophistication that makes even the disproof of a claim a rewarding process to observe. And most of the announcements have endured.
In the past few years, we have learned that the type of hominid known as Homo erectus, traditionally believed to have died out deep in prehistory, may have still been living in Australasia at a time when modern humans were established in Europe. It is extremely rare to encounter an artistic work which makes the world look really different. Yet the shape of the prehistoric world will bend almost as one watches it, and dramatic discoveries are announced every few months. THE GREAT thing about human prehistory is that it changes at such a rapid pace.

If it’s the thrill of the new that you want, the relics of our distant ancestors are certainly a better bet for excitement than the music industry or the literary scene. Genuinely new waves in the arts are few and far between, and the froth whipped up instead is a poor substitute. Yet, in his last months, he seemed to have found a new equilibrium: a new partner and impending retirement had rejuvenated him.How ironic and tragic then that he should be snatched away from us by a sudden heart attack as he reached the summit of one of his beloved Welsh mountains.Geraint Dyfed Barri Jones, archaeologist: born St Helens, Lancashire 4 April 1936; Lecturer, Manchester University 1964-71, Professor of Archaeology 1971-99; married 1967 Vicki Sanderson (one son, one daughter; marriage dissolved 1983), 1983 Brigitte Bowland Barrett (one daughter; marriage dissolved 1998); died Waun Doch, Gwynedd 16 July 1999.. His archaeological preoccupations and his willingness to subsidise his work from his own pocket did not sit easily with family life, though he was in truth a devoted father and talked of his children with pride. He was generous, charming and sparkling company, giving purpose and direction to many people’s lives. He was completely lacking in malice and took a positive interest in others, making them see a potential in themselves they had not suspected.At the same time he was guarded about his own private life, which was not always easy or happy (he was twice married and twice divorced). All these commitments, and his own restless drive, meant that he was frequently juggling with too many balls in the air, and occasionally balls were dropped.

In truth he was a better starter than a finisher (harsh though that judgement may seem of a man with 10 books and well over 100 articles to his credit), and he too readily made promises that were impossible to keep when there were only 26 hours in his day. Chaos was frequently averted only by the timely intervention of his long-serving secretary, Sylvia.But, whilst he might sometimes disappoint and infuriate by his lateness or sins of omission, working with Jones was always exciting and fun, as is clear from a rich stock of unforgettable stories. The public interest he stimulated and sustained (at personal and financial cost to himself) was a service of lasting value to the whole archaeological community.It is fair to say that Barri Jones did not live life the easy way; indeed he seemed to shun the safe option. From 1979 to 1988 he edited a national archaeological magazine, initially known as Popular Archaeology, later as Archaeology Today, and, when this was discontinued, he contributed to another, Minerva. Wherever he carried out fieldwork he developed networks of firm friendships – often people who found a commitment to their local heritage through his encouragement.