Latest Posts — Weblog

What a corker of a stone and as the previous post states fairly easy to locate.
Take the millenium way off straight lane towards Addingham Crag, go to the foot of the crag and its in the third field on your left towards the bottom of the field very easy to make out as its almost square and stands out from the others.

If your heading towards the Swastika Stone dont miss this one its right next to the path easily identifiable by its curious folded strata.
i counted several small cups one with a ring a couple of basins and a few grooves.

The Anvil Stone sits rather close to the footpath, the carvings arent stunning but certaintly worth checking out. also theres a rather cosy chamber underneath made by a gap in between the rocks.

About 50m west of the swastika stone to the rightof the footpath lie 2 fallen gateposts.
The one which is the smaller of the two has two shallow cups and rings on it.

By the time i reached this site i'd run out of water so sorry for the quality of the photos.
Heading back down the footpath by Hardwick House theres a stile in the far left of the field climb the stile and look right in the next field its the largest boulder just by the wall.

What a stunna. Despite the fact the capstone has slipped, and the general appearance the stones offer is now that of a boozy looking, drunken effort to stay upright, it is still an awesome structure. Its disrepair is a shame though, as originally, it was clearly a very important and complex site. Pant y Saer means 'Hollow of the Masons', an accurate title, as beneath the capstone are the remains of a rock-cut pit 16 ft x 10 ft x 3ft, which contained the burials of 36 adults, 9 children, and 9 full-term foetuses. Separately, there were two more burials in a possible Beaker cist. At the western end, between the horns of a dry stone wall, there had been the remains of a forecourt. Despite the wear and tear of time, this lovely dolmen still retains much of its prominence, and apart from anything else, is situated in a very good spot for a picnic.

Did I say Pant y Saer was a stunna? Well, this is a stunna with knobs on! Lligwy has the most incredible capstone, a huge rectangle of rock, easily a yard thick all the way round. Interestingly, deep grooves are to be found on all sides of this cumbersome capstone, and I read on the information board a suggestion that they were caused by ropes rubbing into the stone as it was transported to the site. Can't see it myself; why don't other structures have such obvious grooves? It looked more like eroded drilling lines to me, if it were anything manmade.

This really is awesome. A large dug out chamber under the capstone held the remains of 30 people, and even has a reasonable shelf on which to lay a body. Only after squeezing through the constricting entrance way, grubbing around in the chamber for a while, and sitting on the (not uncomfortable) shelf chatting to a lady on the outside, did I later discover the 25 tonne capstone is only held up on three of the eight uprights. Gulp.

Once again, the prehistoric understanding of rock and engineering never ceases to amaze. . . .

I didn't see one earwig.

Three most beautiful stones stand by a dry stone wall on a rise in a sheep field. The views over Ynys Môn are spectacular, including the modern day fferm gwynt, wind farm. Forming an isosceles triangle, the grey, lichen-fronded stones reach up gracefully to the sky, and look very much like the elegant pair of menhirs at Penrhos Feilw. One of them is indeed extremely phallic. All of them are about six and a half feet high. My summer felt complete as I rolled about in the close cropped turf, flicking away sheep poo and photographing this fabulous trio of stones.

On the way to our final destination, Presaddfed, we screeched to a halt by the roadside chapel of Llanfaethlu, just so Moth and I could hop out of the car and take a couple of snaps of the quite attractive monolith which stands in the next door field. This is much more solid than the previously described stones; much more like the traditional menhir. I liked the way it was still quietly sitting there, despite the Christianisation, and the road passing within a few feet of its field. Again, it enjoyed some lovely views, and the benefit of being utilised as a sheep rubbing post.

Near the Anglesey Shooting School, in a grassy field of the richest Hooker's Green (what the hell had they been putting on it), with a backdrop of beautiful deciduous woodland, sits this imposing chamber. When we arrived, the Shooting School seemed to be having a clay shoot, so rhythmical pops and bangs broke the silence. Once again, some rather dodgy restoration work had taken place – presumably by none other than Chippy Minton. The most incongruous wooden brace was jammed under the capstone, rather spoiling the appearance of this otherwise very pleasant tomb. Yet again, I was put in mind of the Dyffryn Ardudwy type of monument. In the 18th century, this apparently provided shelter for a family of squatters. I imagine that with a few tarps or similar strung round the chamber, it would be quite snug.

This was the other site with which Kate had seduced me, on a golden day in late October. It was just as beautiful this time round. The vibrant green mound stood out wonderfully against the cerulean blue sky, and commanded a stunning view of Eryri. The uprights and other stones at both sides of the mound were covered with the fluffy, frondy grey-green lichens seen at Trefignath. As ever, the menhir inside the mound just blew me away. I love Bryn Celli Ddu; it has the most wonderful energy and a low, thrumming magicalness. The other thing that thrummed was the back of my head, after I cracked it against the interior lintel – the type of blow to the skull that makes anyone else present want to throw up.

I noticed that some thoughtful people had left an offering to the Goddess on a stone ledge inside the chamber. Millennia ago, the Goddess was often honoured with a burnt sacrifice of a prized bull, a sheep or two, or a few goats - now she has to make do with a handful of peanuts, a wizened crab apple, and couple of torn Quality Street wrappers. Quality indeed.

Not unlike St. Lythans, Bodowyr stands in the middle of a field, but unlike St. Lythans, it is caged up behind a green metal fence. This prevents it being used as a shippon by cattle, or having chunks hacked out of it by farm machinery. This is a Good Thing, as it is a charming, faerie-magical dolmen, with a capstone that looks like a toadstool cap. Again, like Bryn Celli Ddu, Bodowyr enjoys a great view across to Snowdonia. Cute and charming. Bizarrely, I managed to take a photo which makes it look like an African mud hut.

On reaching this pair of stones, I think we were all in awe at their sheer immensity. The first, a slender, wide, leaf-shaped monolith, stands a clear 13 feet tall – I thought it looked more like 18 feet, personally. Next to it sulks a brooding, ten foot high rectangular block of rock. Although impressive, I wasn't as keen on the energy of this place. It was in total contrast to the elegant airiness of Penrhos Feilw. There is a suggestion that they are the remains of a stone circle – that must have been one hell of a sight! I think they were a couple of try-outs for comparison, and got left in a field by the early engineers . . .

Rain was swirling in the gloaming as we reached Ty Newydd, and I was also disappointed to note the utterly insensitive and ugly restoration work on this previously stunning cromlech. However, I suppose we shouldn't be ungrateful, as brickwork aside, we still see the structure erect. Best of all, the capstone offers a decidedly nautical feel; seen from below, it looks like the prow of a large ship. I remembered trips to HMS Victory.

For once, ignore the surrounding landscape when visiting this place, otherwise you will be entirely distracted by the gigantic aluminium smelting plant just the other side of the A55, which runs below Trefignath. Focus instead on the monument itself, think to yourself how much it is reminiscent of Dyffryn Ardudwy. (This was the first thing to strike me about the site – further reading revealed that the esteemed Frances Lynch had indeed proved it had a complexity the same as Dyffryn Ardudwy). Pay especial attention to the two tall pillars at the chamber entrance, and the chamber itself, which is quite something. The huge capstone appears to have broken in half at some point in time. The second chamber is minus its capstone. Jane's immediate reaction was that the whole thing looked like French allee couverte. Haven't seen one, so don't know. Sounds fun, though. I liked Trefignath, despite the drizzly rain, and particularly liked the nobility of the main chamber and the hairy, frondy, fluffy grey-green lichens that grew all over the stones.

These two lovely stones are in the middle of a field, and would have commanded a fabulous view across Ynys Môn when first created. Reminded me of nothing more than a gateway or spiritual portal, and I was put in mind of a reference to the rune known as Thurisaz: ' Thurisaz is also held by some to be the gateway rune. It can represent powerful forces available for your use. The decision you have to make - the gateway facing both ways - is how to use them. Thurisaz exhorts you to choose your path and take action before it is too late. Which path will you choose? What force will you employ - attack or defence? This is the problem with Thurisaz- the chaotic element that makes it so dangerous and difficult to deal with.'* Sure was some big gateway stuff going on here. These are a beautifully matching pair of stones – elegant, poised, subtle. Very other-worldly. I liked 'em.

* Quote from www.runes.info

Parking in the RSPB car park – allowed, we were off bird watching after the huts –we crossed the road and progressed along well kept grassy paths amidst a sea of bracken on the lower slopes of Holyhead Mountain. Some mature American hippies/Bronze Age wannabees passed by, one of them wearing a very nice purpley-russet poncho. The sun shone down warmly, and rounding a corner, I was treated to my first hut remains – and was instantly enchanted. What a corker of a site. White dry stone walls, approximately two and half feet high, shone in the light, contrasting with dark green bracken fronds, vibrant purple heather, and brilliant yellow gorse flowers. The turf floors were cropped close, and despite the exposed position, the whole place looked very 'gentle', for want of a better word.

It was easy to visualise the low conical roofs of the roundhouses, and the people moving between the structures. Having just finished the third in Manda Scott's Boudica series of books, I was put in mind of her Iron Age vision of life. What must it have been like living in a roundhouse on an exposed cliff face? The weather had by now broken into glorious sunshine, but winter gales must have been horrendous as they drove into the cliffs, straight off the Irish Sea. One roundhouse looked as if it would have made a snug bolt hole when the tribe gathered together for food, drinking, and story telling. Presumably though, our North Walian Bronze Age ancestors were nowhere near as nesh as a modern day Southerner – and of course, the climate was warmer in those days.

I thought of how they would have sustained themselves – fish caught from the beaches below, boar raised on the mountainside, and eggs taken by terrifying climbs on the perpendicular cliffs which are home to thousands of sea birds. Tasty! Before we left, I gazed out over the view our ancestors enjoyed. The Irish Sea stretched unbroken to the horizon, and to the south, the mountains of the Llyn Peninsula rose out of the sea in irregular, soft, misty blue silhouettes. It was, quite simply, superb.

Saturday morning dawned grey and dry, and inevitably, Jane was like a greyhound out of a trap, with the key to Barclodiad-y-Gawres the hare. Soon, the four of us (Cleo stayed in bed), were rewarded with one of the most spectacular dolmens in the country.

It takes a long time for one's eyes to adjust to the darkness, but finally a very impressive chambered tomb becomes visible. Six stones are decorated with lozenge, spiral, cup mark and concentric circle patterns – the first and most impressive immediately to the right after unlocking the gate and entering the structure within a structure.

The large capstone has been skilfully engineered so as to appear to be balancing delicately and airily on the uprights, when viewed from certain angles. The back stones of the two side chambers are both carved with spiral designs. The best of these are on the eastern chamber – three spirals in a row. The handiwork of a Stone Age monumental mason, perhaps?

Whilst sitting on the comfortable, dry, sandy bank above the gloomy western chamber, listening to oystercatchers and the crash of the incoming tide on the cliffs below, two chaps entered, so I directed them to the Maglite Jane had left by the gate, and pointed out the carvings while giving them a (very) brief overview of the dolmen.

A fiver deposit got us the key from the Wayside stores in Llanfaelog, just one mile north from the chamber. And then with a stiff westerly blowing, we walked up the headland from our cottage to Barclodiad-y-Gawres. Right on a headland sticking out between two gorgeous beaches this chamber has much to recommend it.

I zipped inside quickly not least because it offered blessed relief from the wind. A couple of stones have swirls and zigzags carved onto the rocks reminding me a little of Gavrinis. I even liked the concrete dome protecting the internal chamber from the weather and allowing vistiors to view the entire construction. However, this was the only instance of Welsh restoration that I liked. But more on that story later.

If you get the chance, walk round on the cliffs to the south of Barclodiad and Cable Bay. The views of Barclodiad are wonderful and while you're here look out for the merlins, wagtails, oystercatchers and whinchats!

A stunning grassy mound within a small henge, in all but proportion, just like the green sombrero of Maeshowe. Even my kids fell for its charms, not least because you can get inside and grub around. There's an intriguing standing stone inside the chamber, which must have been built around it. There are also two really nasty, ugly concrete lintels shoved in during restoration, which made me a bit cross. The ditch of the henge is, unusually, lined with large stones.

I'm a sucker for a neat little dolmen, so I was always going to love Bodowyr, for it is as pretty as something as sweet and fluffy in Faeryland. It's caged in behind a nasty fence you can easily climb over. I suspect the railings are to protect the dolmen from the resident herd of cattle in the field. The herd including large mean-looking bull were completely disinterested in us. For those who are a cattle-shy, you could always leg it the 50 metres across the field and retreat behind the fence surrounding the dolmen if they approached.

Today we also had the protection of a 12-year-old son equipped with very loud cap gun.

This pair of weird whoppers stand strangely straddling a rusty gate. They are enormous! One's quite flat and perhaps 18 feet tall and the other is dumpy, but make no mistake, they're Big Mothers! The notes say they may be what remains of a stone circle, but I'm not sure I buy this theory. These are just too goddamned gigantic for that and too close together for the proportions to make sense. A burial chamber perhaps, but not a circle surely. Check 'em out for yourself. They're ace!

Argh! Another example of hideous restoration! Whichever pricks decided to use pillars of bricks to hold up capstones need their brains concreted. I suppose I should be thankful that the capstone is still up but this beautiful chamber has been very badly damaged by it's repairs. You can get a view of it where the brick pillars are not visible and that is certainly worth enjoying.

On a wild hillside covered in gorse, brambles and blackthorn lurks this beauty. Like Mulfra Quoit in Cornwall, the capstone has fallen back dramatically. It's constructed of the same puddingy type local stone as Lligwy, which isn't very beautiful, but it is very white and looks good. It was fairly tight in there, but Rupert and I had to squeeze in. That's the law with dolmens, isn't it?

Jane's Law of Dolmen Visiting states: "Thou shalt make every effort to enter the chamber and grub about in it". Lligwy is especially good for this although at first glance you wonder how the hell you're going to get in. The entrance is small and requires a hands and knees approach. But once beneath the gigantic capstone weighing 25 tons it feels light and spacious as if it's hovering above. It's not. It's held aloft by lots of uprights and once you're in, the ground sinks down below you. There's even a comfy megalithic bunk to lie down on to avoid the mud. We loved it despite being caged in by yet another set of ugly, pointy railings.

Hadn't seen anything like this before: three gorgeous pointy stones, arranged quite close together in an triangular ground plan. They looked like three characters just hanging out having a conversation. It was almost impossible for me and my sprogs not to get in among them and lurk around them, moving from stone to stone. This pissed the hell out of the two photographers in our party.One stone looks extremely phallic. This cannot just be my smutty mind as it is very cock-like indeed. Don't bring your god-fearing maiden-aunt here! Some beautiful views over towards the elegant wind turbines from here. So much nicer than the hideous aluminum smelting plant on Holy Island.

Approaching the tomb, past the cricket pitch we disturbed perhaps 25 pheasants - cannon fodder for the local shooting club. And then you see it! What a fabulous tomb, but once again sadly screwed by thoughtless restoration. Jesus-H-Christ-on-bike, what do they think they're doing lobbing in some ugly timber pitprops to hold up the capstone? Indeed, does it really need holding up? I think not. Surely a clean single metal bar lurking behind the portal stone would have done the trick. Instead we get enough timber to build a new cricket pavilion. Great stones. Great spaces. Lovely looking thing. Great atmosphere. Crap rafters.

Just across the new, fast main road from the aluminium smelting plant is this nicely restored chambered cairn. Lots to see here: from a distance and due to the slatey material it's made of, it reminded me very strongly of a French allee couverte. I liked the juxtaposition of the industrial plant so close and the new road. Despite the continual urban and industrial growth, this thing survives - and rather well.

While you're here, look out for Ty Mawr just up the lane. It's a biggun!

Blimey Batman! We liked these! Tall, elegant and graceful, this pair of megalithic goalposts stand long after the game is forgotten. Having only just returned from Aberdeendshire, I couldn't help thinking how much like flankers these were, without the recumbent. It's hard to be here and not try to bridge the gap between the stones. What went on in the sacred space?

I've seen a few hut circles in my time, but these are the most perfect I have yet seen. They may only be a series of small walls, but what small walls! Today up to 20 of them nestle among tall bracken and heather strung along the hillside which is bright purple. All beautifully restored, it's not hard to imagine them with their conical wood and thatch roofs and all the activity of domestic life... smell that roasting pork and those frying guillemot eggs!

Park in the RSPB South Stack car park. And while you're here why not teeter along those cliff tops? We saw gannets and choughs!

Visited : 17/08/06

Got here after Trefignath just down the road, and this is a delight. As we got out of the car there were the first drops of rain from an all-day threatened storm. The same storm engulfed us whole as we left & drove down the A55.

There's an unmowed circle around the stone with some iron posts to guide the mower. Further out are some short stakes, painted red and with numbers on. These follow a partial circle around the stone. Didn't see whether they extend all the way round. Has there been a survey done? There's now some blue mesh plastic half buried in the ground around the stone. Maybe to help reduce erosion.

The long grass puts the stone in a better setting especially when viewed with the Alu plant behind you.

As we approached Loughcrew, we wondered about getting the key, as advised in the many books we had read. However, when we got to the car park there was a note saying that guides were up on the hill and to come up and join them. So we did!

There were a group of 5 people head of us so we spent the first 30 minutes looking around the satellite sites and stones & taking some photos. We then approached one of the guides, a really lovely man called George Knight, and spent a good 15 minutes with him, chatting about the sites and asking him about access to Patrickstown. He was so enthusiastic about Loughcrew and had many, many theories about the site that I could've talked with him all day. However, we still hadn't been inside the pasage tomb and he was due to take 4 other people in, so we joined them.

Bugger me, that is one impressive place! I thought Vicky was going to pass out with excitement at one point, the whole place is just so awe-inspiring. My head hurt when we tried to think of the science and maths which must've gone into working out all of the alignments. I get that tingly feeling all the time when visiting ancient sites but this was ridiculous! We were like love-struck teenagers!

George spent a good 20 minutes describing the alignments and the way that the sun floods the chamber on the winter solstice. He also talked about the theories he has about the alignment of other passage graves within the area. Other than the light from his torch, it was dark inside the tomb, so we were just pointing and clicking with our cameras, some of the pictures were incredible, others less so; though I really don't think photos can do this place justice.

If you only have time to visit one place in Ireland, I would suggest you go for this one. It is incredible.

After visiting Loughcrew, we headed for Tara. Unfortunately, before you hit the site of these 2 stones, you have to cross the path of St Patrick, which somewhat offended our lapsed-Catholic sensibilities!!

However, we struggled gamely by and entered the churchyard, the 2 stones immediately apparent on the right hand side. No-one else seemed remotely interested in them and we tried to photograph the larger stone with its carvings but the light just wasn't right (the pictures I did take are pretty much duplicates of what has already been posted here, so I won't bother you with them)

I like seeing stones standing in churchyards, there's something quite heroic about it! Many people we spoke to whilst in Ireland commented upon how superstition had actually saved many of the sites from being destroyed, which is the only good reason I can think of for holding such beliefs!

We walked around the whole site, trying to get our bearings and were just amazed by the evidence of 5000 years of habitation, before heading towards the Mound of Hostages (another great name!)

Sadly, after having such excellent access at Loughcrew, the metal gate at the entrance of the tomb was a real downer. I managed to take some photos through the bars but the site felt unloved and neglected, which is strange as there were quite a few people around. Rubbish was strewn on the floor of the passage and it made me feel sad that such a site should be treated like this.

The carvings on the stone in the passage were clearly defined, even from the "outside" and I would've loved to have been able to see them closer.

After the disappointment of not being able to get close to either the Punchestown Stone nor the Craddockstown Stone, we arrived here fairly down-hearted. We pulled onto the side of the road by the sign for the circle and headed up the hill.

When we reached the top of the incline, our mood immediately lifted when we saw the most beautiful circle in front of us. This is a very round circle and reminded me of Glenquickan in Scotland, both in size (although the stones here are much bigger) and the location.

There was a family already there, father and 3 kids and I noiticed that he had Burl's guide with him. We started chatting and he explained that he had been helping a friend excavate the site on the day the picture for Burl's book was taken. This was the first time he had been back to the site and he was trying to work out the postion of the photo. After 30 minutes of chatting, he recommended other sites for us to visit in the area and the combination of the stones and the kindness of strangers made our disappointing morning a distant memory.

This was our next stop after Athgreany circle and was just as spectacular. Again, it is signed from the main road and there is a wee parking space by the gateway.

I loved the 2 great hulking quartz stones, surrounded by smaller granite ones (my knowledge of geology isn't great, so feel free to correct me at any time) but had to wonder at the discarded stones behind a tree; one had been drilled so accurately across that it had broken in two.

Again, this is quite a small and very round circle, set amidst the most stunning of locations. Some of the stones were incredibley weathered, where others have survived the last 4 milleniums quite well.

We were so hungry and tired by the time we got here that we just sat and ate our butties, whilst lots of Italian tourists came by, stood by the dolmen, took a picture and then left. Why is it that men always have to pose for photos like they are trying to pull? One arm, ever so casually raised, resting on the stone and a look of disinterest on their face? Maybe I've just met some strange men over the years.

Anyway, when we eventually felt revived by our tuna butties and apple juice, we explored. This is a huge bugger! The capstone is so enormous you just cannot imagine how it ended up on top of the portal stones. It must have been in-situ and the rest built up under it, surely?

The rather industrial backdrop of garages and workshops doesn't exactly lend itself to an atmospheric location and the chikcen wire fence is less than lovely but this really is a site/sight to behold

I think that this was my favourite of the sites we visited on Sunday with Ryaner. Maybe it was the rather hilarious walk, with all 3 of us stumbling and getting caught on bits of dead tree at some point (and me almost falling into the smallest ditch imaginable) but it is more likely the absolutely magical setting of the stones.

Andy's previous visit was still in evidence and the bracken was quite low, revealing the most beautiful stones. Some of them were almost completely covered in moss and lichen but they still looked amazing. Vicky and I had a good wander around the outside to see if there was an outlier but there doesn't seem to be anything else in the woods linked to this site.

Andy pointed out and named the hills surrounding the site (which I have now forgotten!) and you can imagine the views from here before the forest was planted up. Fantastic! On the way back down, he noticed a stone amongst a pile of broken wood which could very easily be one of the missing stones; same size and weathering.

Oddly, there were 3 cider drinking Scandinavians sat in the centre of the circle which was pretty unusual because it isn't the kind of place a causal observer would stumble on and they didn't actually seem that interested in the circle itself, just their Bulmers! Made photographing the circle a bit hard but nothing could ruin the absolute magic of this place.

A word of warning. The approach to this beautiful wedge tomb is short but very, very steep! My knee almost gave out but I perservered and I am glad I did because it is well worth it. Although in a ruinous state, it is set amongst some lovely woodland and there is still plenty to see. Andy explained that local youths tend to use this area for partying and car burning but it seems to have survived this latest onslaught.

Again, the views must have been spectacular when it was first built; if you remove the planted forest, you would look straight over what is now Dublin and across to the sea.

This was Vicky's favourite site of the day. I must admit, the journey up there did help; having to risk the electric fence (switched off!) and the hounds howling in the distance made for an exhilirating few minutes..... and then, when we saw the huge capstone before us, in amongst the gorse, it was incredible. Vicky spotted a fox, running into the gorse which made things even more fantastic!

Having been at Browne's Hill a couple of hours earlier and being slightly disappointed by the atmosphere of the place, this was just perfect. I like having to make an effort to see a site and the fact that this beautiful portal tomb is siutated in what feels like a wilder, unvisited landscape made the whole thing seem that much more impressive. The capstone is massive and has a "head", almost serpent-like. Andy said that it has been described as sphynx-like and I really could see the connection.

We explored for a good while and then Andy took us over to some stones which he believed had some markings on them. It was bit of a hairy climb up, trying to get all three of us balanced on the stones below but when Andy pointed out the stone in question, it was worth it. A definite pattern of chevrons was carved into the rock edge and continued on the other side. It was pertty hard to see because of the way the rocks have been dumped by land clearance but it was definitely there.

This is an awe-inspiring place; once again I had to wonder at the ingenuity (or madness) of the people who engineered the massive capstone into place on the dolmen and the fact that it is still intact.

Ballybrack is siutated on the beautifully named Cromlech Fields. Someone obviously thought long and hard about that one! It isn't fields at all, but a council estate just outside Dublin, but never mind.

Having recently visited Hully Hill near Edinburgh, when Andy suggested we visit this site, we both jumped at the chance. It is so unusual to see prehistoric monuments surviving the onslaught of the 20th/21st centrury, that I am always somehow lifted by these sites. Yes, they are shown little respect and are often mis-treated, but they do still exist.

There was broken glass and crisp packets strewn all over but the stones retained some beautiful markings and at least they hadn't been too badly damaged over the years.

This was our final site on a very short but packed evening in the lovely Ryaner's company and it seemed fitting to leave him at this site and head back onto the motorway and back into Co. Meath.

We were taken to Knowth first as part of our "Newgrange Experience" and although the site was amazing, the whole tour side of it was slightly disappointing. Our guide just seemed really, really bored, which I can appreciate when you have to give the same talk 6 times a day to groups of barely interested tourists.... Our group consisted of a large number of people who didn't really speak English, so the whole thing was just odd. However, I would've thought that having 2 excited, squealing women, who were obviously REALLY INTERESTED may have offered a bit of a challenge to him, but it wasn't to be.

I loved the whole layout of Knowth with the excavated satellite tombs exposed so we could have a good old nosey at them. I also liked the fact that they had made an effort with re-erecting the timber circle but I was more than a little hacked off at the extent of what we got to see inside the tomb.

I did like the exposed wall, showing the depth of the tomb and the layers of construction (I think I am turning into a bloke, I am becoming more fascinated by engineering and construction!!)

I tried to engage the guide in some conversation, hoping he would suddenly become animated and tell us lots of amazing things, but he didn't. Oh well, you can but try.

The carved kerb stones really were amazing to behold though.

We were luckier at Newgrange with our guide than we had been at Knowth. He was far more interested and interesting, even though he had such a short amount of time to "talk the talk".

I had been so thoroughly warned about the commercialism of this site that I turned up expecting to be disappointed; a great idea, as it turns out, because it was actually less Disneyfied than I had imagined and I had a great time!

We really didn't have enough time to walk around the outside of the site though and our photos felt rushed rather than thought out - I think we just pointed and clicked, hoping we could get it all in! That evening, when I read about the site I realised that we had missed loads of interesting stuff. Ah well, good excuse for a return visit.

At Loughcrew I felt quite emotional, seeing inside the passage and into the chamber. A similar thing happened here but it was the roof which took my breath away. I just kept staring up at it, unable to comprehend the incredible feat of engineering I was witnessing. I'm not sure about the facade of the tomb, whether the quartz was indeed used as a covering, although it seems as plausible as using gypsum to cover sites. I liked the idea of it being used as a ceremonial walkway though.

All in all, I was mightily impressed with Newgrange and I have to say that, if you have to have a visitor centre, then have one like this! It was very sympathetically designed and the interpretative centre was pretty good.

Just to echo others here; as we were leaving around 2pm, they were turning people away as all of the tours were fully booked. I would recommend you get there by lunchtime at the latest (oh and the food was great too....I now have a bottle of Bru Na Boinne springwater on my shelf with Newgrange on the label; great souvenir!!)

Upon arriving, the first noticeable change was the structured lay-by with a now dedicated wheel-chair friendly footpath leading to the entrance of the stones. Neither did it appear necessary to scramble over a rickety stile to get to the King Stone – there seems to be proper access via a small gate. I was keen to see what the circle would be like now its exterior was expanded by the purchase of land to the south.

No disappointments on this score. Moving away from the visitor's hut, the circle opened up before me, more able to breathe within its landscape than for many years previously. It looks fantastic. What made it look even more fantastic was the sunshine spilling over the weathered, twisted, pitted stones, singing out the colours of honey-coloured oolitic limestone, egg-yolk yellow lichens, and olivaceous-green mosses. To the south, a wide, rustling field of sun-baked golden wheat rippled and shimmered in the warm breeze. Fluffy white cumulus clouds sailed in stately fashion across a sky of rich, uplifting blueness. Wild flowers poked up through the grass, and clumps of coltsfoot sat the base of some of the stone, their dark glossy leaves contrasting with the rock. Perfection in Oxfordshire.

After a while the urge to stroll round the complex became very strong, so I set off in a clockwise direction, beginning at the lattice work of gnarled beech roots crowning the eastern dip in the henge. It was then the sheer magnitude of the Avebury complex hit me again, somehow through older, wiser eyes. The size of the embankment and ditch struck home, and I recalled telling one of our neighbourhood children that it had been dug out using antler picks and shovels, the spoil carried away in baskets. Standing still, I looked at the chalk beneath my feet. It was densely packed, hard and dusty. Friends have deer antlers hanging by their back door; they're not especially large, and I tried to imagine what it would feel like to begin scrabbling at the chalk face with a similarly shaped smooth-handled bone pick. Can't imagine it would have made much impact. What a feat of engineering Avebury is – henges built 5,000 years ago, yet still supporting the footfall of millions of visitors a year.

Gazing across the rooftops of houses within the circle, and watching people playing with a frisbee in the north-eastern quarter, they appeared diminutive, tiny against the vast circle and sky. What would it have been like to stand on the henge when there was no village, when presumably it was built for the populace to bear witness to whatever form of rite and ceremony, under open skies and the theatre of the circle? How could you see what was taking place? Was the henge a form of seating, or was it to provide a barrier to arcane and esoteric practices? Could you lie on it in comfort to star-gaze all night?

Strolling round the henge and through the stones, memories of previous visits filled my mind, individual stones calling up reminders of who did this, how this happened, where particular photos were taken, what conversations took place. I smiled inside, at a tapestry of life, friends, lovers, experiences and growth woven over the years amidst the stones – stones that never change, yet can change your life in subtle degrees from the moment you enter their world.

We reached the longbarrow to find a small group of people reading the information board. I took photos like a woman possessed, desperate to take something back with me to North Wales, a decent set of pictures to reflect on when away from this most magnificent of places. It was thrilling to touch the stones again after so long, wonderful to stand in the small forecourt before walking once more into the dark, imposing chambers. Again, the structure of the place struck me through new eyes; the size of the rocks, the creation of this space, the awesome nature of the whole. It occurred to me that the stones appeared very much like the bones of the earth. Once again, memories of times past drifted through my mind, especially the last visit, which was strange and dark. I didn't want that memory to stay with me, but it persistently floated back, until a sudden trilling chirr and resonant, urgent wing beat broke the dark chambers' air. More squeaks, more wing beats, a dart of movement, and a swallow swooped out of the entrance, up the face of the forecourt stones, and into the night. A few moments later a rush of air signalled its return – they were nesting inside one of the chambers!

I hid behind a large stone and watched them fly in and out, while Moth and Jane sat above the entrance to watch their unerring, acrobatic passage back and to the nest. We were the only people there, immersed in the magic of the muted night's colour and smells, the timelessness and atmosphere of the long barrow and its stones, the sounds of wind through grasses and swallows' wing beats and chirrs. The feeling of re-birth, renewal, regeneration and life filled the place, and any dark memories were chased away, to be replaced by light and airy vibes of positivity.