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Standing Stones
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After some pacing about with the map in the deserted high-banked country lane, I finally spotted the top of a stone hiding under a hawthorn bush, and practically built into the bank. "Here, Rupe, if I give you a bunk-up, can you see what that stone looks like?" (Key element of any megarak's kit: one small boy with a willingness to try stupid things). Rupert scampered along the six-foot high bank, and peered into the field.
Jane and I scrambled up after him, and peered through the rusty barbed wire. It was quite a handsome stone, about six feet tall, patterned with lichens and moss, and very snug under its hawthorn bush. A nice juxtaposition, actually.
So it was all three of us were balancing precariously on a foot wide bank, Jane taking pictures of Rupert and me pointing at the stone and grinning maniacally. I just prayed a tractor didn't coming bowling round the corner, or for that matter, the woman on the horse. Don't think she'd have been terribly impressed. It was probably at this moment in time I realised I had gained entry to the World of Anoraks . . .This post appears as part of the weblog entry Preseli's Prehistoric Paradise |
Posted by treaclechops
31st August 2003ce
Edited 3rd December 2004ce
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