In the autumn of 94 I hitchhiked from my (then) home in Cornwall to Badbury and then followed the Ridgeway down to Avebury. Visited West Kennet, Silbury and the stones. Had a couple of pints in the Lion. Then settled down for the night in a corner of the car park on the edge of town. The sky was perfectly clear and I watched the stars and satellites as I drifted off to sleep. Sometime in the early hours I was woken by the sound of cows, sheep and birds totally freaking-out. A heavy fog had descended and I could barely see more than a foot in any direction. In a state of panic I stuffed my sleeping bag into my rucksack and began to flee – but then I realised that I had nowhere to go. I crawled back into my sleeping bag and curled up into a ball. The noise ceased and the rest of the darkness passed uneventfully but very slowly. The next morning there was a gorgeous mist slowing sweeping and curling about the stones.

In the summer of 99 I visited the Avebury area with my girlfriend. Darkness was just beginning to descend as we approached West Kennet. Peering inside we noticed a candle flickering away at the far end of the tomb. We were just about to enter when all the cows and sheep in the area started going ballistic. Thoroughly spooked we walked swiftly away.