Showing posts with label Green Man. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Green Man. Show all posts

Thursday, January 16, 2014

Muses, Daemons, the Genii…and Robin Hood

I am definitely happiest when I’m writing about writing. Writing stories is something I have been doing since I was about 10 or 11. When I discovered how much I liked writing, that was it for me, a lifelong passion. My sister is the illustrator, I the writer. We both were destined to have creativity run in our veins.
I don’t talk about it too much, rather I just get on with it.
For a few years now I’ve been writing a novel – The story idea came to me one day in 2010, sent by the Muse, Daemon, or the Genius- however you want to name it – jumped into my head fully planned out. I was in awe for a few hours after the epiphany. I love it when the Muse sends stuff like that. It’s profound and inexplicable. Now I know how Joan Lindsay felt when the Muse sent her Picnic at Hanging Rock that night.
Robin Hood. We have all heard of him. He is the quintessential English Green Man, hero of the greenwood, saver of the oppressed. He’s in my novel.
But he’s the tritagonist. Of sorts.
An average village girl is the protagonist. A girl, far away in Lincolnshire, is inspired by him to fight for her village, her girlfriends tagging along behind her in masks, hoods, with swords, bows and arrows… Her name is Eloise.
Robin Hood is now a big part of my life. I was inspired by the pagan Robin of Sherwood television show from the 1980s. Since then I’ve read about him, bought books on him, watched many Robin Hood films, old and new for research, ideas, and inspiration. Although I enjoy watching it sometimes, Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves is NOT on my list of great films. Instead, my favourite RH film is one that was released in 1991 – the same year as Prince of Thieves – but stars Patrick Bergin and Uma Thurman. Better, less American, less tacky, with a pagan festival thrown in for good measure, and Uma Thurman’s Marian taking her destiny into her own hands, dressing as a boy and leaving her fiancé (Bloody Normans!) to go and live with the handsome Robin in Sherwood. Her strong character inspired my Eloise and her Maidens.
I found several Robin Hood films on youtube and have been watching those. The Men of Sherwood Forest had a great 50s style.
I bought a book about Robin Hood by Stephen Knight when I was in London in October 2010, a few weeks after the Muse threw the story at me. And in 2013, I purchased The Robin Hood Companion – an encyclopaedia written by a friend of mine, Ronan Coghlan. It has the Gest in it, an early Robin Hood tale along with every other thing Robin Hood is connected to, in story, television and English landscape. 


Art by Newell C. Wyeth


Robin, as I said is the archetypal hero. His presence in the greenwood, where outlaws must run to, emboldens those of today a Luddite rebellion against those attempting to destroy the layman and the land. Damh the Bard sings of him, indicating that everyone is a son and daughter of Robin Hood because we stand up for not only the layman, but the English landscape, which presently appears to be diminishing under an autocratic government (Bloody Tories!). In Robin of Sherwood, he protects the forest. He is the first ecologist. His selflessness shows us how we can be, outlaws or not. Whatever happens from here on, Robin Hood has become a larger part of my life because of this.
And of my other stories? I’ve been writing many short ones of late. And busy with articles too. I kind of need to start small. If only my stories didn’t have a life of their own – in the sense that they are like people in my head – well, the characters are there - all the ideas, all the stories, are crowding together in there, asking me which one will go first. I tell them the newest one – which is Eloise. The older one I planned to work on first takes a depressed step backwards – unfortunately I am not sure if I can ever go back to it – I’ve lost the passion for it – Muse sending me Eloise destroyed that. All the smaller projects take it easier; they take a seat up the back on some bean bags and discuss how they are finished for the moment, but know they might be asked back for some tweaking. They are short stories that are finished or need to be edited. A couple of them are in the queue and know they will be played with occasionally.
'You have not even listed us! There are ideas back there on distant bean bags that we think you've forgotten about'
I reply that there is not even a story yet - the idea and the idea alone sit on that bean bag, and I have not thought of anything.

'What are these other things?' They poke at articles and short stories for publication - I tell them that they are small projects I might need to work on soon but will not take as much time.

They are right. I do need to list them and work out which ones to work on first, or develop in my head. Some handwritten ones have been left behind. I do not want to depress them and tell them they are abandoned for good, because I don't want them to be discarded. They simply might change - research is needed for one particular one that might need to be re-written. But that will come later. The whole gang are curious to see what I do......
Eloise and friends are taking priority, Carmine and Laurel are on hold, if not indefinitely. Angelique and her gargoyle are finished, (well, for now, it will be edited and added to), Iris and Robert finally made it to the faery realm. Trixie, her brothers and the wolves are finished, as is Damaris, as well as Agnes and Fawn. Julius and Philemon still dwell in the city, waiting to be animated, Zara and Oliver and friends are to be kind of re-written, and most of these want to join Oriana's story.

It’s just that they have become such a family of stories and ideas that I cannot ignore them now. As I become a more confident writer, and develop stories better and better as I get older, I want to do them all. They all like each other and some plan to intertwine. Many of the characters I can think of - from short stories I have written or started, are asking to be included in a trilogy idea I have had (Oriana). 'Wow!' I say 'That is quite a project, but I love it (truth be known, I love the idea of Zara and Iris running about together). There are a lot of you. I will have to think of your role in the story. Is it alright that I write shorter stories on your origins first so I know where I am coming from?'
'Sure!' is their reply 'And don't worry, you'll work out our roles, you always do.'
I feel a little pessimistic about that, but know in time it will work....
At age 11, I would not have imagined this… Although it is my imagination that is extraordinary at working things out…



Sunday, August 25, 2013

The Marsden Imbolc Fire Festival (MIFF)

The Green Man
I had the fortune to live in Marsden not long after I arrived in the UK in late 2011, although I did not know about the village beforehand, indeed it was just another village in West Yorkshire where a friend lived, but since I have come here I have discovered just what English village life is all about. There is an amazing sense of true Yorkshire community here, a pagan-friendly, open-minded, folk music driven hamlet in the south-west end of the Colne Valley and its festivals are revered and maintained annually. Every year for 20 years now, there has been an Imbolc fire festival held here.




This is the fire display I was a part of
I also had to fortune of participating in the 2012 festival – as a fire twirler. I met and had become friends with the original, and still present organiser, Angela Boycott-Garnett, who also runs our local Morris team, the Thieving Magpies. Angela appears to organise almost all the local festivals here in Marsden; from when I met her, she was organising the Imbolc festival, and the moment that event ended, it was straight into organising Cuckoo Day (held in April). Angela is a great lover of English folkloric festivals – attending morris and sword dancing events, Mummers’ plays, Rush-cart festivals and anything else where the traditions of Merrie England is possible.

The 2012 MIFF event was held on the 4th of February and on that day, perfect snow fell. Nice and crunchy underfoot. The festival starts in the village near the train station by the Railway pub. Drummers and people masked as foxes walked with lanterns, heading a procession towards the Imbolc festival location – the Standedge Visitor Centre. All the people follow in the procession – carrying homemade lanterns made of willow withy and white tissue paper. Along the road were several lanterns hanging from trees, glowing like little moons. When the procession reaches the visitor centre, they see down from the road, the sight of the fire twirlers on their hill, already performing their synchronized routines.

Earlier, all the fire swingers and performers, in their layers of black clothing, had gathered in the Visitor Centre where it was warm with heaters and a variety of hot soups. The Standedge Visitor Centre is on the canal, by a man made tunnel  - a canal tunnel that runs through the hills and is the largest and longest in the UK. The performance is held on a slope by the visitor centre. Along with the fire performance is a lot of fireworks and a battle between two giants – Jack Frost and the Green Man – and being Imbolc, you know the outcome – the Green Man always wins.

That is me on the far left, twirling my poi
At school, the children participate in an art workshop run by Angela every year regards to Imbolc. They make winter masks to wear to the event. They commented this year that they were sick of the Green Man winning and were planning to ‘cheer on’ Jack Frost. And indeed they did – from our position after our fire twirling show, we could hear the crowd cheering for Jack, especially the little voices of the children. But the Green Man won in the end, of course, because Spring is on its way and the proof of that was the snowdrops and crocuses that were beginning to grow.

The event was over quicker than it started, and was a huge success – the people loved the snow, they all felt that Jack Frost won this time – it seems he did, after the blizzard finished, which was going on during the entire show, it was a crisp, icy winter wonderland, and the moon was almost full upon the white landscape.
The parade, starting in the village of Marsden, was led by the Crow and
the Mr Fox morris team
 
What the parade of people saw as they came upon the road above
Standedge Visitor Centre
 
 
 
I am one of these people here waiting

 
Jack Frost and his retinue
 
Jack Frost
 
The Green Man
 
The fight between Winter and Spring
 
The Victorious Green Man
 


Fire displays

Jack Frost

The drummers of the event


My friend Paddy is the Crow

The Green Man and his retinue

Finale fire displays
 
Green Man now brings Spring.
 
(photos courtesy of Ali Smithie, Gary Stevenson, and the Daily Mail)

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

Green Man Encounter – Fortean Times

Here is an account of seeing a ‘green man’ from the Fortean Times magazine from 2010. I read this out at a ritual gathering at my house at our 2010 Spring Equinox (Sept) and got a impressed response from those there. When I went to London a few weeks later, I went to the Fortean Times convention and bought all three of the 'It happened to me' books - stories collected by FT from the general public and this story was republished within it. So here it is.

Green Man Encounter
One summer afternoon in 2007 I was returning from Central London and my train had spent a few too many minutes idling at the platform in New Maldon station. Lost in thought, I had been looking out of the window at nothing in particular when I suddenly saw something that made me gasp out loud. At the far end of the London-bound platform is a thick bank of trees and shrubs behind a fence. I was astonished to see what appeared to be an enormous face made up of the surrounding foliage looming out at the opposite platform and looking very similar to the typical appearance of the 'Green Man', as seen in church carvings. The face was about 5ft (1.5m) in diameter and about 7ft (2m) or so from the ground. I was amazed how perfect the face seemed to be - though at the same time I knew it was just my brain demonstrating its knack for face recognition in random patterns. I probably gazed in wonder for 20-odd seconds before the most shocking thing happened.

Suddenly, and with tremendous velocity, the entire face withdrew backwards into the vegetation, which caused the surrounding bushes and trees to sway violently. Most striking of all, a branch that must have been under the 'face' swung upwards with immense force - as if a huge weight had been lifted from it - before smacking into the surrounding greenery and, I suppose, reassuming its original position. This whole motion took about a second and the face had completely disappeared! I could accept that a fox or even a human might have been sitting on the branches and had jumped off, causing them to bounce back into position, but this would not easily account for the very distinct retraction of the face, as if it were wrenched backwards into a tunnel.

The face in no way looked constructed or man-made and seemed to consist of a natural, though utterly remarkable, arrangement. The features of the thing were clear to see and I was particularly struck by the grinning mouth and staring eyes. Quite how the verdant visage was sucked backwards, I have no idea.

I have often wondered how, or indeed why, anyone would have achieved this bizarre effect for bored South West Trains passengers. The train drew away and I sat back in my chair feeling strangely unnerved. On all of my subsequent journeys through the station I have never seen anything like it again.

Nick Skerton, Kingston upon Thames, London, 2009


It makes me wonder about our ancestors and whether they saw this more often in times past. It’s all connected to ancient tree worship. Could this be the reason for all the green men carved in churches, and our current belief in them? Where did this spirit come from if not the old Gods - and back then the trees were our Gods. Did our pagan forefathers see this in trees more often when nature was more revered, respected, and a large part of our every day life?


Hawthorn Green Man by Aaron Pocock

Saturday, July 20, 2013

Visiting East Anglia and then Avebury for the Solstice

Suffolk, Norfolk and Wiltshire
 
JUNE 2006
 
On a bit of a fortean hunt for Black Shuck, I went to visit friends visiting Bungay, where a famous event apparently occurred. Saw Rendlesham Forest and Sutton Hoo Anglo-Saxon Burial Site, Blythburgh Church, and Caister St Edmund's 'Venta Icenorum' Roman ruins. The day after I got home, we went to Avebury Stone Circle for Midsummer for the night.
jackdaw in forest
I have been to 3 counties in 6 days. First, I had a great weekend up with friends, then I came back to London, only to bus it off to Avebury stone circle for the Summer Solstice dawn.

Firstly, I got up on Friday and caught the train up to Norwich in Norfolk, and at 1pm, met up with my friends, and we had lunch in the park next to the Castle, then went into the Castle. We saw artefacts from Boudicca and the Iceni tribe of the Celts, also some Anglo-Saxon. Dave and I booked to go see the dungeon which was amazing - but really - seen one dungeon, seen them all - dark dingy, ghostly, and smells of musty air.

Norwich Castle

Outside Norwich Castle - its a strange castle - It's old with a newer façade. And mainly a museum now, with artefacts from local digs. Majority of the interior is modern with a central desk where you queue up for tours to the dungeon. The artefacts of Celts and Anglo-Saxons are plentiful. Then after the dungeon tour in which we heard about famous killers imprisoned there, we went up to the Keep, which was a lovely room.

Artefacts from East Anglian Celts - the Iceni
 
Celtic head


Watching an interaction of someone saving a tribe
from Romans by using a chariot
 
 
Dave in the Norwich Castle Dungeon

We walked into Norwich towards the old market, after meeting Dave's mother. This market was lovely and has been running for about 800 years. Dave and I head off to the bus stop to catch a bus to Bungay, while Sharn took everyone else home. When we arrived in Bungay, I could not believe how untouched the village was. I saw the Black Dog weather vane and then the bus stopped outside the back of St Mary's Church. We walked through the cemetery getting some great shots of the old Priory Church ruin out the rear part of the church. Dave told me where the black dog went, as he ran into the church in 1577.

'All down the church in the midst of fire,
The Hellish monster flew
And, passing onward to the choir
He many people slew...'

On Sunday August 4, 1577 in Bungay he tore through the congregation of St Mary's Church during a service. The fiery dog killed two and left another injured, shrivelled "like a drawn purse."

As the shocked townsfolk reeled from the tragedy, news came that not long before, Shuck had struck just a few miles away at Blythburgh where he had again attacked the church congregation. A man and boy were killed there and others left scorched and hysterical as the church spire crashed through the roof, breaking the font while the tower bells tumbled down.
 
St Mary's Churchyard
Now, Bungay and its black dog, is a favourite tale of cryptozoologists, folklorists and historians. But historical records tell of the two that died that were in the belfry (bell tower) as the church tower was struck by lightening. Nor is there mention of any black dog.

Blythburgh is about 12 miles away, so how did the Black dog appear there as well half an hour later. Shuck is quite a magical creature anyway, and can appear anywhere.


All that is left of St Mary's Priory
 
Front entrance of St Mary's
 

St Mary's, Bungay
 
View of the Church from the street.
 

There is a wide belief that the Black Dog is a spectral being, and is seen around East Anglia quite often. The East Anglian name for this spectral hound is 'Black Shuck'.

Old Shuck, Black Shuck, Shuck Dog, Shock, Old Shocks, Old Hucks - call him what you will. He's Shuck, the ghostly dog who has wandered the dark lanes and windswept coasts of East Anglia for centuries.

Thus is he often described in the literature: "He takes the form of a huge black dog, and prowls along dark lanes and lonesome field footpaths, where, although his howling makes the hearer's blood run cold, his footfalls make no sound. You may know him at once, should you see him, by his fiery eye; he has but one, and that, like the Cyclops', is in the middle of his head. But such an encounter might bring you the worst of luck: it is even said that to meet him is to be warned that your death will occur before the end of the year." (W. A. Dutt: 'Highways & Byways in East Anglia', 1901.)

Or from a more recent source: "He usually appears as a black shaggy dog of enormous size, with eyes like saucers that glow in the dark, but sometimes he is invisible, his presence only detected from the blast of his hot breath and his padding footsteps." (Jennifer Westwood: 'Albion', 1985.)
 
Dave and I then walked over to the Bungay Castle which is the most romantic setting I've ever seen. The ruin is covered in flowers and ivy, and when we passed by it the afternoon, the gate was shut.

Gatehouse Tower

Ivy on the wall, with summer flowers - this is
what you call 'Romanticism'

After arriving in Bungay and seeing some of the villages sites we went down the back streets to Dave's parents place.
 
Saturday - RENDLESHAM FOREST
 
The next day, we prepared to go down to Rendlesham Forest near Woodbridge. We drove south, towards Woodbridge, then to the east side of the forest and went for a walk down one of the tracks. Later we drove around and found the Rendlesham Forest camp and picnic site. This is what we were originally looking for. It was lunch time anyway, so we ate. We picked up the brochures we wanted too - the Forestry Commission had a leaflet called 'Rendlesham Forest UFO trail.'
 
 
 

In December 1980, several UFOs were seen around the USAF Woodbridge Airfield Base - a few of the personnel left the base field to follow lights they had seen in the forest.
Today, you can walk the site where the men saw the UFOs, the landing sites and whether or not it was the Orford Ness Lighthouse flashing in the distance, or stars in the sky, as some of the sceptics have said.



UFO Trail 3

 
UFO Trail 3
'At the clearing towards the edge of the forest the patrol were to report that they had spotted a conical object about the size of a car, floating on beams of light just 12 inches off the ground. There was a mist surrounding it and the craft appeared to be metallic with black markings on one side. They tried to approach the object - it was like walking in slow motion. Suddenly the craft rose rapidly in a flash of light and disappeared.

UFO Trail 3 again -
different angle
The next day the area was searched. Some of the trees in the clearing had broken tops and they found 3 small triangular depressions on the ground. Radiation levels were taken - they were 10 times the normal background level. This area has since been re-planted, however, the trees would not re-grow.'

 
UFO Trail 5
Here is a clearing where witnesses saw a UFO and also heard the sound of women screaming. Time was also cut in half, like everything was half speed. Local herds of animals were agitated on this night.

UFO Trail 5
All up, the walk was 3 miles long and took 2 hours, all in glorious sunshine. The tour was an interesting one, a very good one for the UFO buffs out there, sometimes I think it is catered for the tourists a little too much.
 

 
 
 
 
 
SUTTON HOO ANGLO-SAXON BURIAL SITE, WOODBRIDGE.
 
So that afternoon, we drove down the road from Rendlesham to Sutton, to the Anglo-Saxon burial mound, where a great boat was found in a burial, on a field near a farmhouse in 1939. It was getting late when we arrived, and the gift shop was shut, but we walked through the museum, which had some fantastic displays. In a dark room, on display, was the actual gold buckle they found in the diggings. This is one item of the burial that did not get to the British Museum.
 
A replica boat in the entrance near the gift shop

Entrance to the Museum

Replica grave in the museum


Replica helmet - original in British Museum

So that afternoon, we drove down the road from Rendlesham to Sutton, to the Anglo-Saxon burial mound, where a great boat was found in a burial, on a field near a farmhouse in 1939.
 
The Gold Buckle that did NOT go to the British Museum
 
After the museum, we only had perhaps 20-30 minutes to walk down to the fields where the ship burials are. So in the afternoon sun, we walked down there and saw where the diggings occurred in the 1939. It was a lovely area. Sheep were even grazing by the mounds.
 
A mound remains...
 
In the background, behind the sign is the mound where they
found the boat in the 1930's. Below are more mounds.
 
An image of the buckle with a
mound in the background
 
We left Sutton Hoo near 6pm. That night, after a cool shower, Dave and I walked the dark streets of Bungay, to see how it was at night, but also for a black dog hunt. We first went into St Mary's church.
 
 
St Mary's and the Priory at night..

St Mary's and the Priory

Thinking of Black Dogs appearing, but doubting it, due to people being all around going to and from pubs, we went onto Bungay Castle again.
 
It does not look like much, but this is a section
of Bungay Castle at night. As there is no
lighting, there is not much to see.
 
We both jumped the metal fence, I got horrible bruises doing this! But we snuck around in the dark - this being dangerous, as I have not been here during the day to see the site. We relied on lights glowing off the sky, the village was lit up enough to make our way around. Dave had been here before a few times, so knew the ground.

As we walked back to Bruce's house, we went via the back streets again, seeking black dogs, instead we managed to scare some girls scantily clad for the pubs I suppose, probably very drunk and as they turned the corner, saw us, screamed, turned and ran. I really wished we were in black hooded robes.

The next day, we were to relax a bit more than yesterday. Dave and I walked into Bungay, to see inside St Mary's and finally legally go into Bungay Castle.

Sunday - BUNGAY, BLYTHBURGH AND VENTA ICENORUM

St Mary's and a gargoyle

Proof that myth still runs strong in this
Suffolk village

Inside St Mary's. White washed walls like this often
have amazing medieval murals underneath them.
One example is at Pickering Church, Yorkshire

Bungay Castle, much brighter in the sunlight

Looking toward the Gatehouse

Inside the Keep

View of St Mary's from the Castle
 
After Lunch, Dave and I drove 12 miles away to Blythburgh to see the other church - the Holy Trinity - that the Black Dog attacked that same night, during the tempest, only about half an hour later.
We arrived to find people gathering at the large church for, what looked like a Christian concert of some sort - people were everywhere and we went around the north door to see the scorched claw marks on the door that were left there by the dog, as it tried to leave the church. The lady I spoke to was very suspicious about me entering the door to look behind it. But I was barely a minute.
Dave had told me about both the towns reactions to the 1577 Hound attacks - it was obvious today - While Bungay seems relaxed and enjoys its history, not minding about bringing up discussions regarding the Dog, Blythburgh seem to be in denial of it, like they seem to be more pious, and often believe that the Dog was the Devil himself. We had the strong feeling there was very sceptical Christian views present.
 
Lovely Holy Trinity church, Blythburgh

Holy Trinity

 
Now a picture of the famous scorched claw marks on the North door...
 
Claw marks of the Shuck??
'As the dreadful dog flew from the church, he is said to have left deep scorch marks on the door. The legend continued for centuries even though there were no signs of the marks on the original door. Then, in 1933, the door was cleaned and burn marks - some say they were the devil's own fingerprints - were there for all to see. They remain there today.'

 
 
 
Then we drove to Caistor St Edmunds - where Venta Icenorum, an old Roman ruin was. The only visible remains were the Roman wall, and the field which the old town was, is now a sheep pasture. It was a long walk and we took it up by scratching around in mole hills to try to find artefacts of any sort. Found lots of flint which is what the wall is made of anyway.
 

A Roman wall - up to 1800 years old
 
Monday - NORWICH
 
Hawthorn green man
On the Monday, I headed down to the Bungay book shop with Dave, then we parted ways - he had to go to Lowestoft for the week with the family, and I had to get to Norwich. I got into Norwich, had lunch and walked to Norwich Cathedral, to look for the gold leafed green man. After entering the east side of the cloisters I looked up to the ceiling and found the first roof bosse I saw was the very Green man I was looking for.

Near the cloisters

Norwich Cathedral

The Nave

I caught the 2.30pm train back to London, and taking my time to get home - which was about 5pm. I uploaded all my East Anglia photos, and when Gemma came home, we got ready for the next day, our trip to Avebury Stone Circle and village for the Midsummer Solstice of 2006.

Tuesday and Wednesday - AVEBURY STONE CIRCLE, MIDSUMMER

We got to Uxbridge in good timing (10am) and caught a bus with 30 people - all these people we had met at the Beltane Bash and the Ealing pub moot - our new friends - including Ian who we met at the Pagan Pride March. A quick stop on the way, and then onto Wiltshire. It takes two hours to get there. Our bus had letters pinned on it spelling 'Druid Express.'

When we got there we had to go to the Red Lion pub to get off and lug our bags and tents to the campsite next to the National Trust car park. We helped Gina set up her tent, as we were going to use it too. Then we ate lunch and head into the village. Crowds had not really arrived yet - it was mid afternoon, and we spent the rest of the day going into the pub, going to souvenir shops that sold postcards, henge merchandise and lovely books and things about the surrounding wonders, like Uffington White horse and Stonehenge and places like that.
 
National Trust Café
We also found the National Trust Café as well. Then we walked the entire circle of Stones, and along the outer barrow dyke, visiting the copse of beech trees dotted around the site. We left Danae, who was bored, in the 'comfort' of a café or pub, while we went out in the sunshine.

Back at the site, we ate and then when it got dark, went back into the village to sit in the pub, but I left to go to the stones and found those drummers again that I had seen at the Beltane Bash. I found Ian straight away and watched the drummers. They were surrounded by a circle of torches and people of all ages were dancing. There was a Green Man Giant as well, and the energy was fantastic. When it finished, we all parted to go back to the camp site, maybe eat and rest. Our friends camping with us were drunk, therefore doing things like setting fire to the grass after burning all the hamburgers on the disposable BBQ then burning wood on it.

At dawn we all struggled up and went to the stone circle to watch the sunrise - the drunk, drugged-out hippies all paying no attention to the rise. We stood there for almost an hour waiting for the sun. When it came we all cheered. Down in the circle there was a huge circle and 3 druids were there talking about the past few days being the solstice, and that we were technically there too late. People were still sleeping under a tarp in the middle of the circle and there were laughs all round when one of them woke up.

It was 5-5.30 am and no pub or café was open yet, so we went back to camp and ate a bit, then I took the blankets and slept by myself for about 3-4 hours. I felt better.

The kinds of characters you get at a
pagan gathering
We all went to the National Trust café and had breakfast too. I had planned a walk to Silbury Hill, the Avenue and West Kennet Long Barrow. Gathering some friends, we walked the mile to the Hill, and Jerry and I walked up it.

Then we walked onto West Kennet Long Barrow. Gemma had a sore hip, so we went the short way home, missing seeing the Avenue. We rested at the camp site before we packed up and went to the village again. I spent more time at the Stones, as I did not know when I would see them again. Maybe not for years. Then at 5.30 we walked back to the car park and caught the bus home. Almost everyone was sleeping on the way back. We had an early night when we got home.
 
 
 
Avebury Stone Circle

The three Beech trees

Stone circles


The gathering of the people

Fire twirling and drumming in the evening

The midsummer dawn

Druids conduct a ceremony

Silbury Hill

View of West Kennett Barrow from Silbury Hill

West Kennett Barrow

Entrance of West Kennett

West Kennett


Silbury Hill from West Kennett

My farewell shot of the stones