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Visited 7th March 2015
Last time I was here was in the gloaming of a summer evening after a frustrating couple of hours searching for the nearby rock art, and when the stone hove into view after my fruitless search it was an ample consolation prize. Today things are a bit more relaxed though. After a nice lunch at the nearby Robin Hood Inn (lovely veggie quiche) a walk up Gardoms edge past the Three Men cairns, brought us to the woodland where lurks the stone.
Easily hidden amongst the trees, we nevertheless managed to find the stone with a little searching. It’s an interesting menhir, charismatic and bent over like a stooped old hag as you approach through the birch trees, whilst deep curved erosion of its other face gives it a raddled aspect.
Long afternoon shadows only add to the atmosphere, but the closely surrounding trees make it difficult to discern the orientation from the penumbra of the stone, so whether it was selected to act a gnomon for a sundial, or merely because it had a distinctive shape is something for conjecture.
It’s a fine stone whatever it may have been used for, and certainly worth a visit amongst the fine walks and rich archaeological heritage of Gardoms Edge.
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Visited 7th March 2015
With Spring seemingly having arrived the pull of getting out and about to visit some megaliths proved irresistible. Even better was the fact that Five Wells was somewhere I’d never been before. Not sure why it had taken me so long to visit, I’ve been coming to the peaks for the last twenty years, but perhaps Mr Cope’s terse directions of ‘requires an OS map’ in the big papery TMA had put me off in the past, possibly expecting the requirement of advanced navigation skills, or at the very least somewhere safe to leave the car. Today I’m armed with Andrew Johnstone’s terrific ‘Prehistoric Peak’ book, and its detailed directions and map make finding the place a piece of cake.
Traveling east on the A6 towards Ashton in the Water, a right turn into a lane (opposite the sign for Beech Croft Lane Caravan Park, if you get to the brown sign for Tideswell you’ve gone too far!) takes you to the Taddington recycling centre, which although operational is now fortunately nice and tidy, rather than the open sore of a landfill described in much earlier fieldnotes. Here it’s easy to park right by the start of the footpath which leads up to the hill to the chambered tomb.
It’s an impressive place, another of those hidden delights of the Peak District, and I berate myself for not visiting it before. High on its hill the substantial remains of the mound which once covered the tomb spreads out around the two chambers which remain, still giving a good impression of the circumference of the tomb in its pomp. The craggy grey stones of the uprights looking suitably time worn and ancient, nevertheless provide an excellent shelter, as I sit within the surprisingly comfortable eastern chamber to write some fieldnotes.
The construction of this place reminds me of a smaller scale Bridestones, perhaps due to the portal stones flanking the chamber, although the setting at Five Wells is much more open and airy.
As the wind feels its way around the outside of the chamber providing a soothing soundtrack, I remain snug inside with a thermos of coffee, and feel a real sense of peace and tranquility. A skylark hovering overhead serenades me, and there is something about this place, nicely situated away from it all, that seems to encourage a sense of introspection, and a feeling of being at one with the elements (or perhaps it just my old hippy sensibilities coming to the fore). It’s certainly helped by the fine blue skies today and an actual touch of warmth from the sun when out of the wind.
Views from up here are lovely, although the quarry to the north is still a bit of a blot on the landscape, but it’s nice to see that after reading the early fieldnotes about this place, how the surrounding environment and access has improved, and somewhere as special as this really deserves it.
There’s a real sense of the quickening of Spring today and of life returning to the land, and there's no better place to experience it than at Five Wells.
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Visited 11th May 2014
This was near the top of my list of must visit places on Shetland, and with the sun making an appearance through the clouds, bringing some warmth to the day, and our time left on Shetland fast diminishing, we headed for Shetland’s ‘wild west’ and the enigmatic Stanydale.
On what felt like a road to nowhere a sign and parking spot soon makes itself visible, and we squeeze the car into the layby. It feels remote here, and is one of the few places on Shetland where we’re not able to see the sea.
Setting off across the slightly squelchy moorland it’s not long before we arrive at the Neolithic house not far from the temple. Like Carl before us we sit in the remains of this ancient dwelling, and just take in the atmosphere. Cracking open the Thermos we have a cup of tea, drinking in the peace and quiet as much as the PG Tips, and wondering what the venerable farmer who constructed this place would have thought about a pair of visitors supping tea in his house some four millennia later?
As we press on for the temple, shadows from the clouds and ever changing light play across the heath and with only the lonely cries of birds as a soundtrack we feel as if we’ve stepped into another world. Soon the structure of the ‘temple’ is visible, the small wooden gate guarding the entrance opening into a well-kept interior, the grass mown to a standard that wouldn’t look out of place on the greens of a championship golf course.
It’s certainly an unusual place. Thick stone walls delineate a horseshoe shaped building, which apparently, according to the conclusions of an excavation in 1949, was similar in size and plan to temples found on Malta, hence leading to Stanydale’s ‘temple’ epithet. Inside the enclosure the large stones which make up the walls are chunky blocks, rare in this vicinity, and so again according to the 1949 dig, must have been brought some distance, a lot of trouble to go to if it was purely meant as a domestic structure perhaps, as there are plenty of suitable other types of stone for building nearby. Looking closely at the large upright stones as well I’m struck by the natural patterns on them, different coloured shapes on the stone caused by lichens giving a mosaic like effect. There are also two large postholes inside, from which charred spruce was found, the nearest source of which in Neolithic times would have been Scandinavia, unless of course they were found as driftwood?
I have a wander around the exterior, taking in the standing stones which are dotted around the perimeter of the temple. There appears to be a defined arc of stones to the south, perhaps the structure was once surrounded by them, but now it’s difficult to make out the overall layout of the stones.
Sitting back inside Stanydale to write my notes I’m struck but what a strange and unique place it is. It seems much more than just a grand dwelling, or even a fancy ‘village hall’ type of meeting place, something about its layout, the exterior stones, and three fire hearths (which again according to the excavations were not typical of domestic settings). It strikes me that I’m reminded of the main structure at Barnhouse, near Stenness on Orkney, where I was sitting only a week ago. Although the design of the two structures are very different, something about them feels the same, and I’m convinced this place had a ritual function, an old cliché I know, and based on little more than my own ‘feelings’ of the place and some sketchy evidence (no wonder I never got that Archaeology degree!)
What I can say with certainty is that Stanydale is most certainly a great place to visit. It feels both remote and welcoming, certainly unique, and a perfect place to spend some time, sheltered here from the wind, with the sun overhead, we just don’t want to leave. Magical.
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Visited 17th May 2014
I’ve heard the Stone of Setter described as the finest standing stone in Orkney, now that’s certainly some claim given the lovely menhirs I’ve seen around the islands, so I was eager to put the claim to the test and hang out with the stone on my visit to Eday.
Anticipation built when the distant form of the stone appeared on the horizon as I walked north up the island’s main (well only really) road. The watery expanse of Mill loch borders the stone to one side, whilst the xanthous gorse filled slopes of the high ground of Vinquoy hill provide it with a suitably dramatic backdrop. The stone itself sits on a small saddle of land, raised and distinct from the surrounding landscape, and almost like a marker delineating the sacred area of tombs clustered at Eday’s high northern end, perhaps in a way analogous to the Watchstone on Mainland marking out the start of the Ness of Brodgar?
It’s always exhilarating when a place is in sight, and as the stone grows ever closer, I reach the Eday community shop, and stopping only to fuss a very cute cat hanging around outside, I turn left and follow the road by the loch. A sign pointing toward the stone indicated the start of the path for the Eday heritage trail, and this close up the scale of the Stone of Setter becomes clear. A great block of ruddy red sandstone standing fifteen feet tall rearing up before you, huge weathered grooves eroded into the top of the stone which is enshrouded with Orkney’s familiar lichens. It is both dramatic and beautiful.
I sit down at the base of the stone, so happy to be here, and tired after the walk. The sun is out, but with plenty of clouds about threatening to encroach on the day. I write my fieldnotes and eat my packed lunch, before embarking on the photographs. The stone takes on a different shape from each aspect. From the front on it seems to resemble a giant hand emerging from the earth ordering you to halt before it, whilst from the side it appears like a figure staring out over the loch.
Nearby are the low outlined remains of a handful of structures that the nearby information board ominously refers to as ‘de-fleshing’ chambers which may possibly have been used in rituals associated with the stone (ah the old ‘ritual use’ explanation again!) . It gets me wondering whether this was an excarnation site, similar to that postulated at the Tomb of the Eagles (although I know there is some debate as to whether excarnation did actually take place there). Given the proximity to the tombs which are scattered about Vinquoy hill, (indeed one of them, Braeside, is directly aligned with the stone) it doesn’t seem beyond the realms of possibility that the stone symbolised a transformative place where the dead were turned from their earthly fleshy form to the stone-like bones of their skeletal remains, then to be placed amongst the ancestors watching over them.
This is one of the things I love about visiting our ancient and enigmatic monuments, thinking about what role they may have played in the lives of our forbearers and their place amongst the landscape, it’s fun to speculate. If it was once the marker for a place of the dead there’s certainly no sinister atmosphere here, quite the opposite in fact though, it feels more of a joyful, transformational place.
So the best standing stone in Orkney? At present it’s indubitably the Stone of Setter, but I won’t take that as being set in stone!
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Visited 17th May 2014
It’s only possible to get to Eday and back in a day on Saturdays, it’s also rather extortionately expensive to take the car. So since the island is only 8 miles in length, and I like a good walk, then an epic trek taking in as many ancient sites as I could in a day trip on the island was the plan. The downside of this of course is that time has to be carefully managed, one eye always on the clock lest you miss the ferry home (I had the misfortune to do that on island of Rousay once, and wasn’t keen to repeat it!). This also means you just don’t get long enough to spend at somewhere as good as Vinquoy.
Vinquoy is the highest point on Eday, and the mound atop the hill has been prominent for miles. This is the main event for me on today’s trip, so I’ve walked briskly nearly the whole length of the island, not having seen a single soul in the last three hours. After passing the wonderful Stone of Setter, I start on up the hill toward the tomb. Vinquoy hill, whilst not exactly a Munroe, is taking it out of me now, my rucksack feels as if the Trows have put a few rocks in it whilst I wasn’t looking, but as I approach the mound, atop the hill, the fine masonry of its entranceway enticingly visible, all the fatigue falls away.
I open the small gate which bars the passage, and stoop into the long, slightly curving entranceway. Wooden planks have been placed along the damp passageway to avoid having to shuffle through the mud, and soon I’m in the inner chamber and able to stand up. Inside it’s wonderful. A tall corbelled roof, and four side chambers, two to each side are visible. But it’s the atmosphere inside this place which is sublime. The warm red colour of the Eday sandstone used to construct the tomb, provides a russet glow, whilst ferns cascade from the upper masonry of the walls, and a strange white lichen almost glows in the gloom.
A circuar skylight admits some illumination, along with a small vent, which is visible from outside the tomb, sticking up like a little chimney atop the mound. This combines to give the inner chamber an airy quality, and lets the place breathe, much better than the stuffy concrete capped burial mounds you can see on Rousay, thank goodness Callender and Grant didn’t get their hands on this one!
I take a look into the side chambers, their entrances are very low, and trying to squeeze in with backpack, camera and assorted accoutrements, would leave me plastered with mud for the day, so I’ll leave that for next time, a valuable excuse to return, as if I needed one!
I spend quite some time inside. Vinquoy has one of the most special atmospheres of any tomb on Orkney. I think the combination of a well preserved internal structure, the warm coloured stone, and fantastic vegetation all combine to make it somewhere truly special. I really have to force myself to leave, it feels as if I’ve stumbled into one of those fairy entrances to the otherworld.
When I emerge back out I’m pleased to see that hundreds of years haven’t elapsed since I went in (although looking at the landscape, you’d probably be hard pressed to tell if they had, so unspoiled is it, only a handful of wind turbines letting you know you’re in the 21st century at all.) Looking around from atop the hill the views are great, the Stone of Setter still prominent below by Mill Loch, and islands scattered around to either side, a truly fantastic place. It may require some effort to get to, but Vinquoy stands there proudly with the best chambered tombs that Orkney can offer, it’s really something special.
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Visited 17th May 2014
This is yet another impressive tomb on the Eday Heritage trail in the Vinquoy area, the yellow of the gorse on the hillside contrasting with the blue of the sea ahead, and the denuded remains of the tomb are clearly visible as you head towards the hill.
Dug into but still large, the remains of the bank around it giving an idea of the size it would once have been, which would have been a substantial mound by the looks of it, a shame that only an adumbration of its form remains. A southern entrance passage is still visible which opens into a narrow stalled chamber, a couple of orthostats still standing to show where one of the compartments was. The entrance passage is particularly interesting in that is offset slightly, by 10° from the axis of the chamber, so that it aligns directly with the nearby Stone of Setter.
Standing in the entranceway you get a great sightline of the standing stone, or rather you would if someone in the past hadn’t built a stone byre directly in the way! It’s still possible to see the alignment though as long as you move yourself off centre slightly.
I manage to find a small information sign about the tomb attached to a post, which had fallen over and now lies prone in the grass. This indicated that there would have been three pairs of stalls within the chamber, and that it was excavated by Farrer in the 1850’s, probably leaving it in the state it’s in today.
Although battered it’s got a certain charm. In some way it reminded of a truncated version of the Cairn O’ Get in Caithness, not sure why as it’s different in layout, it just had that ‘feel’ to it that some of the tombs you find in Caithness have, I also find it interesting that on the slopes of Vinquoy hill we have three very different designs of tombs, the stalled cairn of Braeside, double-decker special of Huntersquoy, and mini Maes Howe style Vinquoy. I wonder why that is? It’s almost as if this part of Eday was like a chambered tomb showroom, where you could pick out the style of monument you’d like for your own Neolithic community! Or it could be I suppose a very special place where different communities came together, each bringing their own style of tomb to the area.
I still think it’s a very special place, and a nice appetizer for the delights of Vinquoy just atop the hill ahead.
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Visited 17th May 2014
On the slopes of Vinquoy hill an intriguing entranceway seems to open up into the heart of the hillside. Once it was a fine rare double-decker construction, but now all that remains of the upper chamber is a few stones to delineate the skeleton of the top part of the tomb.
There is a small information sign from the Eday Heritage Walk attached to a post nearby, which indicated that the upper chamber had a west facing passage, whilst the lower chamber faced to the east, just like Taversoe Tuick. It’s an intriguing design, and I wonder if there were any more tombs built like this which are lost to us now, or was this incredibly specialised design purely a local innovation amongst the folk of the northern Orkney’s? Farrer excavated here in 1855 but didn’t seem to come up with any answers, I wonder if there’s been any investigations since?
The sign, as well as prior fieldnotes, indicated that the lower chamber was generally flooded, but I’m ever optimistic, and there’s not been much rain on Orkney the past couple of weeks (well not much by Orcadian standards anyway!). When I bend down to take a look though it’s clear there is a fair amount of water in the passageway. Some tentative prodding with a nearby twig lets me gauge that there is about a good three inches of water in the interior, certainly high enough to come over my boots, and as I’d have to stoop I’d probably end up with sodden trousers too . It generally takes a lot to deter me on visiting somewhere, but lacking wellingtons, waterproofs a towel or change of clothes, the thought of tramping around for the rest of the day soaked to the skin and slowly becoming hypothermic is enough to stop me today.
I settle instead, like Ubik before me, for shining the torch down the passage to take a look. It’s swathed with ferns which grow along the entranceway, and the light of my torch reflecting off the water does little to drive away the shadows which occlude the chamber. According to the information sign it’s supposed to be a Bookan type of cairn, with compartments set around a central space. Although incredibly adept at dry stone construction, drainage obviously wasn’t the Neolithic Eday folks forte, and it’s frustrating not to be able to go in and check it out, as I’d love to see how similar the lower chamber was to Taversoe Tuick’s, but in the immortal words of Arnie ‘I’ll be back!’
What I am pleased to see is that there is no sign of any of the rubbish as mentioned in Ubik’s fieldnotes, although copious amounts of wool bob about on the water, so obviously sheep aren’t put off entering (or perhaps they just want a bath?). It’s an intriguing place, the entrance passage which seems to lead into the bowels of the earth reminds me a bit of the Rhiw burial chamber, and the placing on the slopes of the hill, with the Vinquoy tomb prominent on the horizon, and the Stone of Setter standing proud to the south, obviously mark this part of the island out as having some special significance.
Huntersquoy is an intriguing site on the Eday Heritage Trail, just don’t expect to get inside without a wetsuit!
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Visited 14th May 2014
As anyone who’s read some of my previous fieldnotes will know I’ve got a pretty blasé attitude towards trespassing in order to visit an ancient site. Of course I always make sure never to cause any damage to anything and act in a considerate manner at all times, but there are some occasions where I would draw the line, and one of those is where I feel I would be infringing on someone’s privacy.
Quanterness is one of those cases, the mound of the barrow sitting in what looks like a small walled garden next to a farmhouse. In these situations there is nothing for it but to either settle for a view from a distance, or knock on someone’s door. I’ve settled for a distant view before, and as I’ve written in the past I never feel as if I’ve had a satisfying visit unless I’ve been able to set foot on/in or otherwise touch the site. I can’t really explain why, I just need to feel that sense of ‘connection’. Now being a somewhat reserved and unsociable type there’s nothing I dislike more than having to ask a stranger for permission to visit part of our cultural heritage, but knowing that in general the Orcadian folk are friendly, and not wanting to appear the worst kind of ferry-louper, I man up and approach the farmhouse, getting ready to try explain exactly why I would like to more closely examine the undistinguished grassy lump in their garden.
At this moment I’m saved by the arrival of the postman (no not the veteran TMA contributor!) who on attempting to deliver a parcel to said address quickly determines that there is no-one at home. The gate leading to the mound clearly stands open, so I decide to take a closer look, vowing that if I see anyone returning to the house I’ll come out and ask for their permission.
Through the gate the mound sits in a clearing surrounded by trees. Bluebells and wildflowers are scattered around the perimeter, and the dappled sun under the branches casts a warm light over the area. It’s quite wild here, the fact that it’s not a manicured garden both puts me at more ease about visiting, and also adds to the atmosphere of the site. The perfect mound ringed with flowers looks like something straight out of The Shire, and as I approach the grassy hump, and happily sit on its flank I almost expect to find a hobbit sized door in the side. There’s nothing more to see than the green mound nestled amongst the trees though, but it’s nice to be here on a sunny day, experiencing that sense of connection again with our ancient past.
When compared with the embarrassment of megalithic riches on offer just a stone’s throw away around Mainland, Quanterness is probably unlikely to top anybody’s list of must visit sites. You can catch a glimpse as you pass Quanterness farm on the main A965 near Kirkwall (just look for the trees and you’ll see the mound peeking out) which will probably be enough for most busy modern antiquarian’s, but I’m glad I’ve finally stood here, at just another reminder of these isles rich Neolithic history.
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Visited 14th May 2014
Wideford Hill holds a special place for me, I must have more fieldnotes from this place than any other ancient site, its combination of fantastic views, impressive construction and overall sense of presence, makes it a one of Orkney’s best chambered tombs.
I see the tomb perched on its hill often as I pass by on the Stromness to Kirkwall road, and I always make a point of visiting here at least once each time we are in Orkney, and as today, I like to walk from the house in Kirkwall out of town on the Old Finstown Road, before ascending the hill to the cairn, like a pilgrimage of sorts.
The day is filled with beautiful sunshine today, the hill a beacon ahead of me as I walk. It’s a good hours trek from Kirkwall, although of course you can drive and park near the top of the hill if you want easier access. The path that curls around the flanks of the hill which leads to the tomb is dry today after the recent clement weather, but at times can be difficult going, its peaty, muddy surface often rough, so a good pair of boots is advisable. The old gate with the woollen ‘offerings’ mentioned by Carl is still next to the path, and just beyond in the distance you can make out the fence that surrounds the tombs enclosure.
As you circumvent the hill the views open up over the Wide Firth looking out down Mainland, with Finstown spread out around the bay, and the sister tomb of Cuween hill just visible on the horizon if you know where to look.
The layered wedding-cake like construction of the tomb stands out, the stonework exposed and giving a fine example of how these corballed tombs would look beneath their grassy mounds. Checking on the ‘municipal’ torch (how many of these would find ‘doon sooth’?) I’m pleased to see it’s all present and correct, and in working order, although once I slide open the rooftop entry hatch the bright morning sunlight floods the chamber and its clear no torch will be needed today.
Inside the cool damp exterior I sit and soak up the vibes. The corballed stonework is exquisite and two low entrances enticingly open into side chambers. Today I’m content just to sit in the main chamber, not wishing to get myself too muddy by squeezing into the side cells. It was in one of these cells that I experienced what I can only describe as a presence, the first time I was ever here some fifteen years ago. As I sat inside the chamber in total darkness, I became convinced there was someone else in there. I could even hear their breath in the silent chamber, but as I reached out, all I could feel were the cold chamber walls. It didn’t feel at all threatening at the time, quite the opposite in fact, and I felt a real sense of welcome and belonging, and since then I’ve always felt Wideford Hill was a special place.
After a while I emerge back into the sunlight, and sit atop the cairn to write my fieldnotes. Mainland seems stretched out before you and it’s easy to recognise why this was designated as a sacred space. It still feels that way now, come and visit and experience some of Orkney’s magic for yourself.
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Visited 12th May 2014
This was the highlight for me of our visits to Shetland ‘old stones’. After seeing some pictures of it in Charles Tait’s Shetland Guidebook (an excellent guide by the way, we found it indispensable on our trip) and reading that it was one of the best preserved examples of a heel shaped cairn on Mainland it was a place I really wanted to visit.
Our first attempt was two days ago, under grey clad skies, spitting rain, and the kind of incessant biting cold wind you only get at 60? north. We walked to Mavis Grind and looked around the headland to see if we could spot the cairn. It didn’t look far on the map but knowing from bitter experience that this can be deceiving, and lacking any visual point of reference we soon have to retreat to the car to thaw out.
What a difference a couple of days make though, today you couldn’t ask for better weather, the sun feels positively warm, and although a constant wind still blows it is light and lacking in any bite, so a return to Northmavine is on the agenda.
Parking at the large layby right next to Mavis Grind the deep azure of the North Sea and Atlantic, flank us to either side. I thought to bring the binoculars today, and standing next the remains of the dragons teeth tank traps left over from the war at the head of Minn bay I scan the headland, and spot the cairn.
We set off around the coast, at first the going is steep as you have to first climb and then descend the high headland, but as we came down the other side with the cairn in view and the sun sparkling on the beautiful waters of the bay I can’t think of a finer place to go for a walk.
A path is visible, with the occasional stile over a fence, and we encounter a sheep, which looks as if it has just given birth, its lamb still tottering on unsteady legs and being licked clean by its mother. Trying not to disturb the pair we detour slightly around, the cairn now tantalisingly close.
When we reach it I’m taken aback. Although a small heel shaped cairn its frontage remains, nine smallish stones forming a curved forecourt, which opens into a short entrance passage and chamber. The siting of the monument is exquisite, overlooking the Atlantic side of Mavis Grind and sheltered in its own bay you couldn’t wish for a nicer view to look out at over eternity.
I sit in the cairn, which turns out to be a right little suntrap, and completely sheltered, possibly one of the cosiest little cairns I’ve ever seen. Movement by the rocks next to the water below suggests the presence of otters, but today they are hiding from us. We find a bone talon amongst some rocks near the shore, and it leads me to wondering whether there was any similarity between burial rights and customs seen here with those such as at the Tomb of the Eagles on Orkney? I resolve to look up any information on excavations or finds made here to see what current theories are.
The chambered cairns and tombs found on Shetland tend to be much smaller and less complex than their Orcadian contemporaries, the forecourting and shape seemingly sharing more similarities with monuments found in Caithness, but something in the siting of these places, and how they fit in the landscape seems to resonate with the Orcadian monuments, perhaps because they are both island communities?
We spend quite some time here, and don’t see another living soul, it’s only a one mile walk from the car, although certainly steep in places, it only took us about twenty minutes, and yet we could be in the middle of nowhere. This is one of the nicest places I’ve ever been, perfect natural beauty and peace, combined with the fine remains of a lovely little chambered cairn. The only sounds are the calls of birds and the lap of the sea as it enters the bay via a narrow passage, and these are the perfect accompaniment to the absolute feelings of peace and restfulness you can experience here.
We leave Shetland today to return back to Orkney, and this has been a magical way to end our trip, if you ever make it this far north come here and see one of Shetlands lesser known megalithic gems.
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Megalithic wanderer and modern day pagan.
I've always loved anything historical, particularly megalithic sites (I've many a fond memory of visits to Stonehenge in the mid 1970's as we used to stop there every year on the way to the annual family holiday down in Bournemouth, which I think started it off), and the discovery of a certain book by Mr. Cope set off an obsession in the late 1990's to see as many of these wonderful places as I can.
Enjoys walking in the wildnerness and climbing mountains (currently on the worlds slowest round of Munroe bagging), travel, playing guitar, real ale and malt whisky, historical re-enactment, fencing and wargaming (although not all at the same time!) Also adores small furry critters (particularly cats)
Spends most of the year in the megalithic desert of the Midlands, although fortunate enough to live part of the time in Kirkwall in the megalithic oasis of Orkney, with my lovely (and very patient) wife Ellen, and the cute furball that is our cat Hecate.
Favourite sites would be Callanish and Ring of Brodgar (where I was handfasted) in Scotland, Les Pierres Platts in Brittany, Havangsdosen in Sweden, Glavendrup in Denmark, and Sunkenkirk in England.
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