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Pfyn
Pfyn is a municipality in Frauenfeld District in the canton of Thurgau in Switzerland.
Pfyn gives its name to the ancient Pfyn culture, one of several Neolithic cultures in Switzerland which centered on intensive pig farming and trading, dating from c. 3900 BC to c. 3500 BC.
Pfyn was also the site of a Roman era frontier outpost, named Ad Fines (Latin: meaning "at the borders")
History
Pre-Roman Pfyn
The oldest traces of a settlement are about 1.5 km (0.93 mi) west of Pfyn in the former peat bog of Breitenloo. Located in a depression carved by a lateral moraine of the Thur glacier, it dates from the Neolithic era (4300 BC). The settlement site was discovered during peat cutting in the late 19th Century, but subsequently forgotten. During the war years 1940-41 an attempt to drain the bog to increase arable production land, led to its rediscovery. drainage work on arable production was raised again. In the autumn of 1944, an area of approximately 1,000 square metres (11,000 sq ft) was excavated by interned Polish soldiers led by Charles Keller-Tarnuzzer. Due to the topographical conditions, and an exploratory drilling project in 2002, it appears that about 60% of the settlement area has been excavated.
Radio Stations - Pfyn
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Podcasts:
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by Richard Thompson
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by Maroon 5
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by The Legendary Pink Dots
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by Bl
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by Graham Nash
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by Radio Dead Ones
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by Blof
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by June Tabor
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by Amazing Blondel
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by M2M
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by In Extremo
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by Tribe
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by Crown The Empire
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by Savoy
Pavanne
by: Richard ThompsonPavanne, cold steel woman Pavanne
How do you love a woman
With eyes cold as the barrel of her gun
Who's never missed her mark on anyone
Pavanne, Pavanne, Pavanne
Casino doors swing open, the rich men raise their eyes
They say who is this beauty as elegant as ice
And later there's an accident, another charge d'affair
Is lying in a pool of blood, no witness anywhere
And they say she was a hundred miles away
The hotel porter saw her climb the stairs
And the maid with trembling hands knows what to say
When the judge says "Are your sure," "I'm sure" she
swears
Pavanne, cold steel woman Pavanne
How do you love a woman
With eyes cold as the barrel of her gun
Who's never missed her mark on anyone
Pavanne, Pavanne, Pavanne
At the presidential palace a thousand people saw
His excellency leave his car and never make the door
The blood flows from his fingers as he clutches at the
stain
He staggers like a drunken man, lies twisted in the
rain
And they say she grew up well provided for
Her mother used to keep her boys for sure
And father's close attentions led to talk
She learned to stab her food with a silver fork
Pavanne, cold steel woman Pavanne
And they say she didn't do it for the money
And they say she didn't do it for a man
They say that she did it for the pleasure
The pleasure of the moment
Pavanne, cold steel woman Pavanne
How do you stop this woman
When everyone is moving in a trance
Like prisoners of some slow, courtly dance
Pavanne, Pavanne, Pavanne