|Robert enjoying a beer at The Cloisters pub on our first night.|
|'Oooh, we're building a henge, are we? That's lovely.'|
In some cases, as with Stonehenge, I can see faintly the ghost of another, older image, like a double exposure on film, a fuzzy recollection superimposed on the real landscape. The Stonehenge of my childhood was much, much bigger - not just the impressive and monumental reality, but astoundingly and absurdly colossal, easily twice their true height. This memory persists, a flickering projection, inflated and exaggerated, over the new memories. This is easily accounted for by a change in perspective (yes, though it might be hard to believe, I am in fact taller now than I was at the age of eight), but a strange sensation nonetheless.
On a lighter note, a few amusing facts about visiting Stonehenge:
1. The fields immediately surrounding it contains a number of sheep grazing, which rather undermines the ancient dignity of the site.
2. the entirety of the information presented at the site can be summed up as 'here are the dates when particular parts of it were built and some things we found on site, but apart from that we have absolutely no idea how it was done or what it was for, or any useful evidence. CUE ETHEREAL MUSIC'
3. The audio tour noted that some of the more impressive parts of construction were done at the same time the pyramids were being built in Egypt, which kind of makes it seem a bit crap and unsophisticated, really.
4. As the audio tour consisted of seven parts, which you were intended to listen to at different spots around the henge, each part of the tour would end with the recorded guide directing you to the next spot. You know, 'walk to the next marker on your left, and when you get there, press 2 and play' sort of stuff. The penultimate section of the guide, however, said this: "The next marker is near the TARDIS, which is shaped like a sentry box." I shit you not. We even stopped to listen to it again and make sure. We didn't get a chance to ask someone about it, but I'm sure there's a fun story there.
We returned to town via Old Sarum, which we have affectionately re-christened 'Willie's Hill Fort'. I could not remember if I had been there before or not. Castle ruins tend to all run together, as there is very little to distinguish one flinty wall core from another after everyone's knocked down the castle-y bits and pinched all the nice stones for other buildings.
|Robert entering what remains of the castle's back passage, hur hur.|
We had both worn the wrong shoes, and were subject to Willie's Revenge, which was the thick chalky clay that climbed up the sides of our sneakers and resolutely clung to them as we left the ruins, trailing white footprints on the grass behind us.
|Also here is a pony.|