Sun, Somerset and Stonehenge

Down to Gillingham near Glastonbury at the weekend for three days of Orienteering (Triple-O-Severn, how those orienteers like their little jokes and puns). Found a quiet campsite to stay at, which turned out to be attached to a Buddhist Temple, and was surrounded by trees hung with prayer flags. The natives seemed mostly harmless, but didn’t invite us to any tantric sex orgies. Didn’t get time to visit the Tor, but we popped into the town of Glastonbury one evening. It was very…Glastonbury. Everything you’d expect of an area with that sort of reputation; shops selling mystical things; more tramps and various crusties in various states of vagueness than you see elsewhere; aromas of vagueness abounding.

Some bimbling around Ebbor Gorge ensued; more bijou than Cheddar, less spoilt and less busy too.

Stopped off at Stonehenge on the way home. Got in free with my National Trust membership, but the stones were, well, disappointingly small having seen them on TV so often. I wonder what it really looked like before it was put it back together the way some people thought it ought to look? OK, so I googled the answer. The past isn’t necessarily what you thought it was.


~ by @mmonyte on May 3, 2006.

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