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Jane’s TMA Blog

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All hail to St Lythans and Tinkinswood

Whenever I'm out and about on work business, if there is time (and my colleague/s are patient enough to indulge me) I try to swing by whatever glorious antiquities I can chart en route. A trip yesterday to witness the excellent work undertaken by YWCA projects in south Wales afforded me the opportunity to glimpse St Lythans and Tinkinswood, only 5 miles from the M4 near Cardiff. As I sat with my colleagues discussing new programmes for disadvantaged young women in Cwmafan, a bloody enormous and violent storm broke overhead and I found my mind wandering from the important issue of the plight of young women suffering domestic violence and abuse to wondering if the tempest would have passed by the time I reached Tinkinswood...

...it didn't.

All hail to this mighty burial chamber! All wind and all rain, too. To reach the beast, I galloped the quarter of a mile through the tall wet grass in the field in my inadequate office clothes, clutching an all-too-small umbrella to protect me from the horizontal, angry hailstorm as my bemused friend and colleague Carole sat in the warm, dry car, amazed at my commitment to this old stuff.

Despite the inclement conditions, I wanted to inspect the GIANT weetabix capstone, the beautiful construction of the stones supporting it, the whopping chamber beneath it which offered some protection from the hail and rain and thunder, but at a price - paddling in 2 inches of muddy water. The appalling weather made it feel very intimate, not only because I had it entirely to myself, but also because from beneath my umbrella my field of vision was severely impaired, so the massive pylon looming over it so closely was completely irrelevant to me. The rivulets of water streaming off the stones made them glisten with life and despite the dull lighting conditions, the photos I took showed the stones off as shiny and wonderful.

I marvelled at Tinkinswood's great size and shape, it reminded me of Belas Knap, but without the swelling of Belas' mound. Tinkinswood is more collapsed and flatter. Was it always thus?

Trotting back through the wet grass again in my already saturated trousers I felt happy and inspired by this place. Carole, who, without any foul weather gear or an umbrella had waited for me in the car, could hardly believe that after having spent 15 mins out in this hideous deluge I could return to the car smiling. Ah! That's the power of Tinkinswood.

Just a mile away, free from the steady, humming gaze of any pylons, stands St Lythans dolmen. Ooooh! Sooooh pretty! Fortunately, I didn't have to walk far from the car to see it, just 20 metres or so. (So a good one for Mikki to enjoy, Ocifant!) As I reached the kissing gate, I could see it and gesticulated back at Carole my sheer joy at seeing it's beautiful silhouette on the horizon 20 metres away. I ran up the field excitedly, by this time shrugging off the worst of what the heavens were throwing at me with my little umbrella.

A house of cards but made in stone, its simplicity of construction and symmetry is a sheer delight. It provided perfect cover from the maelstrom for a moment until curiosity forced me out from the dolmen's cover in order that I investigate the context of the field in which it stands. The weird low western light and the stairrods-rain/hail and the shimmer of long wet grass revealed easily the original shape and size of the long barrow of which this dolmen would have once been a part. Like at Tinkinswood the cover of my umbrella forced me to look down and across only, so its context within the trees, ridge and valley were lost to me.

I returning to the car I inspected my appearance in the 'vanity' (ha!) mirror. It was indeed a very, very bad hair day.

Such is the sacrifice we women make to antiquarianism.

Tinkinswood — Images

14.05.03ce

St. Lythans — Images

14.05.03ce

Tinkinswood — Fieldnotes

14.05.03ce

All hail to this mighty burial chamber! All wind and all rain, too. To reach the beast, I galloped the quarter of a mile through the tall wet grass in the field in inadequate clothing clutching an all-too-small umbrella to protect me from the horizontal, angry hailstorm.

But I wanted to inspect the GIANT weetabix capstone, the beautiful construction of the stones supporting it, the whopping chamber beneath it. The appalling weather made it feel very intimate, not only because I had it entirely to myself, but also because from beneath my umbrella my field of vision was severely impaired, so the massive pylon looming over it so closely was completely irrelevant to me. The rivulets of water streaming off the stones made them glisten with life and despite the dull lighting conditions, the photos I took showed the stones off as shiny and wonderful.

I marvelled at Tinkinswood's great size and shape, it reminded me of Belas Knap, but without the swelling of Belas' reconstructed mound. Tinkinswood is more collapsed and flatter. Was it always thus?

Despite my cold, saturated trousers I felt happy and inspired by this place. Carole, waiting for me in the car, could hardly believe that after having spent 15 mins out in the storm I could return to the car smiling. That's the power of Tinkinswood.

St. Lythans — Fieldnotes

14.05.03ce

Ooooh! So cute! and standing just 20 metres or so from the kissing gate at the edge of the field its beautiful silhouette on the horizon. I ran up the field excitedly towards this little house of cards but made in stone, its simplicity of construction and symmetry a sheer delight. It provided perfect cover from the appalling weather for a moment until curiosity forced me out from the dolmen's cover in order that I investigate the context of the field in which it stands. The weird low western light, the stairrods-rain and the shimmer of long wet grass revealed the original shape and size of the long barrow of which this dolmen would have once been a part.

Love it! I'd love to return here on a sunshiney day with a flask of Earl Grey and a selection of interesting cheeses. A little Jarlsberg anyone?