I wasn’t really expecting the barrows to be so low in the landscape. They’re kind of in a dip with very little view – so I guess the view is all focused on them (although trees have been planted one side of the road, so I don’t know what the view that way would be). They seem to follow the lie of the valley.
I read Wysefool’s suggestion that maybe a now-lost spring here was the reason for their location. (although what about the significance of his beloved nearby long barrow?) But in support I can tell you that I didn’t dare drive my car up the track to the small car park, because there was a huge patch of deep mud I was scared to get it stuck in – surely the only mud in the whole county on this baking Sunday, so maybe there’s still something springish here.
There’s a kissing gate into the field, which is a nature reserve, and currently full of rough vegetation that you have to kind of wade through. I spent a lot of time looking at all the weird plants (dropwort, quaking grass, knotted clover, I won’t go on) but my best moment was when I suddenly realised I was looking at a disc barrow, its shape suddenly leapt out at me. It was extremely serene here and I lounged under a beech tree on one of the barrows. The only noise was the occasional passing car and the sound of hundreds of crickets like tiny machine guns constantly firing away.
Really enjoyed reading your fieldnote Rhiannon (also the longbarrow one). The patch of mud does sound like a spring - perhaps a mud spring.
I was reminded of the Albourne barrows which I have yet to see; looking them up I found another Dr Who anecdote which was interesting.
themodernantiquarian.com/site/3234/aldbourne_four_barrows.html