In which it turns out I am, as suspected, a hippy at heart

A small mini round-up of recent holiday exploits, which feels like inviting you around for tea on the pretence of talking about writing and then just when you are comfy I pull down a screen and proceed to bore you with holiday snapshots.

Stonehenge. Gosh you’re a big rock, aren’t you? And you. And you.



It is hard to see the majesty of this site in-between a hoard of over excited school-children released from various sweaty coaches. They were all much more interested in taking pictures of their friends on their mobiles, and Stonehenge was almost like some sort of giant accidental rockery in the background. In fact, the ‘information wand’ (pre-recorded thing that you hold to your ear and listen to as you walk around) solemnly told many theories of why the stones were there, but never hit upon the idea of a rockery for gardening Druids. I am a genius.

Glastonbury. Ooo crystals and dragons and faeries! Repeat ad nauseum.



My first glimpse of the town of Glastonbury was entrancing. I had found a place where it is perfectly acceptable to grow old wearing fluffy fairy wings. What more could you want in life? The shops are charming and I can well see why it draws open-minded people, however there was a creeping ‘business’ sense drifting on the conversational wind that made me wonder a little – like the men sat in the vegetarian cafe discussing a crystal workshop ‘money-spinner’, and the women angrily discussing how a tarot reader’s advertising board was obscuring their own sign. I know places have to make money – you can’t live just by skipping around holding a daisy – but the world of wonder makes a strange bedfellow with the world of business.

More Glastonbury images...



Love the fact the shadow makes it look like Batman has appeared in the doorway of the church below.



The Chalice Well. Ommmmmmmm....



This is one of those holy spots where holy things happened a wholly long time ago. It is also blessed with a lovely well-kept garden and obviously is run by people who take a great deal of care in keeping it that way – benches are placed at thoughtful interludes for moments of calm reflection and peaceful meditation. I lay under the cool green canopy of trees and just revelled in the quiet. I also had a moment of pretending to be the Blackthorn Fairy, but thankfully for other visitors it didn’t last long.

Some Barrow Thing. The hillside around these parts has Mumps.



There are lots of lumps and bumps on the landscape in these parts, mostly because they were all ancient burial mounds, or natural watch towers from when the lower ground was long-ago covered in water. At the top of this one was a ruined church, guarded by sheep of an uncertain disposition. I went into complete city girl panic – it’s a sheep! It is looking at me! It has horns! It’s a ram! It looks a bit pissed off! Will it eat me? But I survived, climbed the hill, admired the view, and pondered the church. It had curious wording – something like it has been given in case local folk wanted to use it to commemorate people who died in the Second World War – not that it ‘was’ a memorial, but in ‘case’ they wanted it to be in the future. Odd, but nice.

Avebury. There’s a rock! And another. And another.



It was a sweltering hot day to land up in Avebury, the site of a large henge and several stone circles around the village. The white dust from the road mixed with the atmosphere, making everything a little dust-blown and hazy as I followed the circular trail from large stone to big rock. I wanted to be grabbed more by Avebury, but the picnicking tourists and midday heat didn’t make me feel any awe, apart from ‘awe I really need to find the loo’, and ‘awe can we sit in the shade’, and ‘awe does this shop serve ice-cream?’

I think Autumn would probably suit me better, towards sunset. Wearing some sort of flowing gown with a pint of ale waiting for me in the nearest brewing establishment. And after that I could skip around holding a daisy to my heart’s content, slightly sozzled.