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Stanton Drew my attention, but at Stoney Littleton I'm reborn

Ah! A sunny, clear day - what's more it's the weekend! At last, the perfect opportunity to visit Stanton Drew and Stoney Littleton. Treaclechops and me hit the road.

Stanton Drew - a real survivor, big and bold, but like an old war horse, badly scarred and needing nurture. Despite being such a big complex - three circles! - it didn't get me going. Why, I don't know. It felt broken and somehow bereft. My state of mind perhaps? The stones are massive and impressive and highly worked many as big as the monsters at Avebury. Impressively rose-coloured with peppermint lichen, the sun casting great dark shadows and allowing the spring green of the grass to sing. I made a sketch but came away feeling sad. Up at the Cove, by the church, conveniently situated in the garden of the Druid's Arms, a monumental stone of the weirdest shape defies gravity and bends over to the left. But still I feel sad.

We drive on. And on. Down muddy single track lanes trying to locate Stoney Littleton. A woman walking her dog gives us directions to the very picturesque village of Wellow, but she told us she'd never been to the Long Barrow. Treaclechops has been once already and proceeds to lecture her on it's delights. I'm really looking forward to it now. But then: a steep muddy single track lane and a significant branch has been blown down from a tree and I can't drive over it. Will we ever get to Stoney Littleton? Without saying a word, Treaclechops leaps from the car and with one almighty Goddess-like action casts the branch effortlessly aside over a hedge gets back in the car and I perform a faultless hillstart in the muddy track. She resumes consumption of her pork and pickle pie. Its gonna to be alright.

Driving down a tiny valley, in the late afternoon sunshine we finally reach it and suddenly I get that tingle. Yes, it's awl-fucking-right: its gobsmacking! Treaclechops has been reading to me as I drive, 'The Vagina Monologues' and hey, seeing Stoney Littleton it all make sense! Vaginas are FANTASTIC, (I'm rather keen on mine) and here is another one, but made of stone and earth and tufty hummocks and light and shade. I love the way its profile rises from the hillside like a great fuzzy mound of venus. We crawl in. I love the way it goes DOWN with the curve of the hillside, WOW. I crawl s q u e e z i n g l y out of the darkness of its long, long passage and blinkingly I re-emerge. I feel reborn. What a place.

Reluctantly we leave but the spirit of Stoney Littleton inspires us to talk in the car on the way home about our own vaginas - I suspect most of the male readership of this would be inspired too; she's a dyke and I'm straight - a very revealing talk!
Stoney Littleton - hmmmm - its a horny, haunting, earthy, vaginal place. Christ, I think I've just come.

<b>The Great Circle, North East Circle & Avenues</b>Posted by Jane

Stony Littleton — Images

<b>Stony Littleton</b>Posted by Jane
Jane Posted by Jane
2nd March 2003ce
Edited 2nd March 2003ce

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