Stukeley’s illustration of the Millbarrow. Online as part of ‘Abury – A Temple of the British Druids’ (1743) courtesy of Lithop.
Rhiannon
An almost surreal illustration of Silbury, from Stukeley’s ‘Abury – A Temple of the British Druids’. Online at Lithop’s excellent website.
“A prospect of Silbury hill from the spring head of the Kennet River 13 May 1724”. Stukeley’s illustration from ‘Abury – A Temple of the British Druids’ (1743).
Online at Lithop’s website.
Prospect of the Cove Abury 10 July 1723. – drawing by Stukeley in his ‘Abury – A temple of the British druids’ of 1743.
Online at Lithop’s comprehensive website.
About a third of the way down this link you can read the council’s reasoning behind granting the planning application for the burial site at Cothiemuir Wood.
news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/wiltshire/5114602.stm
“Construction work begins on Monday and volunteers are invited to help and also learn about archaeological theory on roundhouse design.
Throughout the building work, which is due to be completed by the end of July, there will be a series of walks and talks for families, schools and colleges to find out more about the project.”
So much folklore attached to one small stone. This version of events comes from Baring-Gould’s source and is in ‘Lives of the British Saints’ v4 p 293 (1913).
About a mile from the church, in the corner of a field near the Holy Wells of SS Cybi and Seiriol, on Clorach farm, is a celebrated maen hir, a little over four feet high, called Lleidr Tyfrydog, Tyfrydog’s Thief, which has the appearance of a humpbacked man.
The local tradition is that a man who sacrilegiously stole the church books, whilst carrying them away, was suddenly converted by the saint [Saint Tyrnog that is, the patron saint of the church] into this red sandstone pillar. The lump to be seen on one side of the stone represents the sack which contains his theft, lying over his shoulder.
His soul, at stated intervals, is compelled to go three times madly round the field and back to the stone, in the dead of night, being pursued by demons with red hot pitchforks.
Baring-Gould also relates this tale: In 1098, Hugh, Earl of Shrewsbury (for some reason) put some dogs into the church overnight. When they were let out the next day they’d gone mad. And it didn’t do Hugh much good either – he was killed by a Norse pirate within the month. Giraldus Cambrensis ascribed it to ‘the vindictive nature’ of the Welsh saints. Well maybe they just don’t want dog hair (and worse) all over their churches, eh? And they don’t want their books nicked. Is that so unreasonable?
To be quite frank I do not know anything about this earthwork (and there are no details yet on Magic). It comes with its own megalithic folklore though, which is well brought to life in the following extract:
As [Saint] Samson and his party were about to descend from Laneast Down, they observed a bald hill on the left, now Tregeare.. The hilltop was thronged with people engaged in an idolatrous revel. Samson recalled what Winiau [his cousin] had said to him, that the natives were still immersed in devil worship, and he at once descended from his wagon, and taking with him two of his monks.. made for Tregeare, and in his zeal, ran up the hill.
He found the people dancing round an upright stone, and the chieftain of the district was looking on with approval. Samson remonstrated. The people good-humouredly explained that no harm was meant; they were merry-making as was their immemorial custon; but some advised Samson to mind his own business. Certain of the company were angry at his interference.
Samson persisted.. at this moment a boy of noble birth who was mounted on an unbroken colt, and was careering about the hill, was thrown, fell on his head, and lay stunned on the sod. This drew off the attention of the revellers. Samson went to the lad, made people stand back, and prayed for the child’s recovery. Happily, the boy opened his eyes and stood up.
The people, supposing that the Saint had raised him to life [like heck they did] became more willing to listen to him. Instead of destroying the menhir, Samson cut a cross upon it. The revellers gave up their dancing for that year, to resume it on the next anniversary [my italics].
The stone is no longer on Tregeare height, but a very rude granite cross stands by the wayside from Laneast Down to Tregeare.
From p 156 of Baring-Gould’s ‘Lives of the British Saints’ (1913). The text is a translation of an older document. Samson was supposed to have lived c500AD.
At the foot of the hill the map shows ‘Mother Anthony’s Well’ (ST 999642). Apparently it is probable that a major Roman shrine was associated with this spring*... and could this have been a continuation of earlier beliefs?
*According to the Avebury Archaeological Research Agenda wiltshire.gov.uk/archaeological-research-agenda-avebury.pdf
Oliver’s Castle is truly fantastic. I’d go so far as to say it beats Adam’s Grave hands down* (so long as you don’t want a longbarrow)..
It need require no uphill walking, which will please some people. If driving here persevere and park at SU 004647 – the track is perfectly flat and navigable though you might initially feel you’re heading off into the back of beyond.
Stroll down the path to the end of the fort.. and you will be gobsmacked by the view. Surely you can see the whole world from up here? Well of course you can’t really, but it’s a manageable size universe, and I think that’s why it has such appeal. It looks like all the everything you could require. It might not be the grand vista from a more dramatic mountain, but it’s more fertile and comfy.
The barrows couldn’t be in a better spot, stuck out right at the end. But the manmade lumps and bumps are utterly overshadowed by their natural counterparts – to the north of the fort are the most amazing undulating intricately folded dry valleys. The light when I visited made them look even nicer. You want to roll down them or something.
The fort is sprinkled with beech trees, with their obligatory bubbled carved writing on the trunks, but they masquerade as scots pines from afar, because they are so wind blown. It is very windy up here. The site is a nature reserve, and is full of lovely plants at the moment – beautiful pink sainfoin, thyme and greater knapweed, and many others. [A few weeks later and it was a botanist’s dream].
*Is this sheer exaggeration? You’ll have to visit and find out.
St Neot was a keen evangelist and was trying to convert the unenthusiastic masses of Hamstoke (now, one imagines, the village retitled as ‘St Neot’).
Local tradition, fondly clung to still, tells how they one and all made excuse, alleging that the crows came down in such flights on their fields as to destroy the prospect of crops, and that accordingly they could not spare the time from watching their fields to attendance on his discourses.
Then Neot summoned the crows to him and empounded them in the old Roman camp on Goonzion Down, and bade them remain there during the time of Divine worship and instruction. And they obeyed.footnote: The entrenchment is now called ‘Crow Pound’. The woman at S. Neot who told the story to the writer said: ‘Some people doubt that this was so. But S. Neot was a very holy man. There is Crow Pound, and there on the opposite side of the valley is the Rookery.‘
From p7 in ‘The Lives of the British Saints’ volume 4, by S Baring-Gould and John Fisher (1913).
This is very wordily reported in Impounding Wild Birds
Wm. Pengelly
The Folk-Lore Journal, Vol. 2, No. 1. (Jan., 1884), pp. 19-20.
in which he quotes the Parochial History of Saint Neots in Cornwall, by James Michell, 1833, p137-8. The name of the village is given as Guerryer Stoke (now St. Neots).
Baring Gould (in the 1913 v4 of ‘the lives of the British Saints’) quotes from Pugh’s 1816 ‘Cambria Depicta’:
According to another version Twrog was a giant, who dwelt in the mountain. The villagers had incurred his wrath, and he flung the huge stone down with the intention of killing some of them, which , though it hit the church, did no damage. The imprint of his five fingers are still visible on it!
A stained glass window in Maentwrog church shows St Twrog holding a book in one hand and leaning on the stone with the other. (the book is Buchedd Beuno, the book of St Beuno, which Twrog wrote. It’s also known as Tiboeth, from di-boeth, ‘unburnt’, because it escaped Clynnog church burning down three times – it was handily encased in iron).
Information about the excavation and contents of the barrow.
With delicious photos here.
This barrow is long lost. But I hope the TMA Eds will permit its inclusion as it held the most amazing (and famous) collection of grave goods, and (some of) these, at least, have survived; you can see them in Devizes museum. Also, the truly obsessed will get a kick out of visiting the spot, without the need for the barrow to even be present...
Eagles and Field* say that early OS maps place the barrow at ST94444010, but the exact site isn’t definitely known. Aerial photos show at least seven round mounds in the vicinity, so perhaps it’ll never be certain.
Curiously, the mound was already built and occupied by a cremation when the two new cremations and their accompanying wealth were added – it’s a shame we can only speculate about the story behind this.
*B Eagles and D Field – William Cunnington and the long barrows of the River Wylye. In ‘Monuments and Material Culture’ ed. R Cleal and J Pollard, 2004.
I was intrigued by this, having seen it apparently mentioned in the Mabinogion: “And by force of strength, and fierceness, and by the magic and charms of Gwydion, Pryderi was slain. And at Maen Tyriawc, above Melenryd, was he buried, and there is his grave.“* Felenrhyd is just downstream, and the stone that marks his grave stands in the churchyard of Maentwrog.
‘Maen Twrog’ however implies ‘Twrog’s stone’ – Twrog being the celtic St Twrog. The stone stands beside the church in Maentwrog. A website about the church suggests the stone marks St Twrog’s grave.
It would be interesting to know how old the church is (the current one seems Victorian?). The wikipedia doesn’t say where it gets its version of the legend from, but suggests Twrog was trying to destroy a pagan alter with reckless stone throwing from a mountain, and that explains why Maen Twrog and the church are where they are.
It also mentions the belief that “if one rubs this boulder one is fated to return to the village in the future.”
Moss’s kind researches from ‘Welsh Saints’ by Breverton turned up the information that:
At Maentwrog, a huge stone different to local rocks (possibly a glacial boulder) is attached to the angle of the church, and is known as Maen Twrog. It was supposed to have been thrown by Twrog from the top of the mountain of Moelwyn.
*(from Math, son of Mathonwy, online at the sacred texts archive
sacred-texts.com/neu/celt/mab/mab26.htm#page_413
Links to information and photos of ancient monuments in the county.
Links to lots of folklore at the Clare County Library website (much of which relates to the ancient sites of Clare).
clarelibrary.ie/eolas/coclare/folklore/index.htm
Historical maps of County Clare.
Lady Guest suggests in her notes to the Mabinogion story ‘Math the son of Mathonwy’ (online at the Sacred Texts Archive,
sacred-texts.com/neu/celt/mab/mab27.htm
that Pen-y-Gaer is the location of Caer Dathyl, where Math is supposed to have held his court. The story does include lots of geographical spots / placenames, so this could be more than just a wild guess.
It seems that Richard Colt Hoare visited the site:
The following account of its discovery was communicated, in 1821, to the Cambro-Briton (and printed in that publication, II. p. 71), by Sir R. C. Hoare, on the authority of Richard Fenton, Esq., of Fishguard.
“An Account of the Discovery, in 1813, of an Urn, in which, there is every reason to suppose, the ashes of Bronwen (White Bosom), the daughter of Llyr, and aunt to the great Caractacus, were deposited.
A farmer, living on the banks of the Alaw, a river in the Isle of Anglesea, having occasion for stones, to make some addition to his farm-buildings, and having observed a stone or two peeping through the turf of a circular elevation on a flat not far from the river, was induced to examine it, where, after paring off the turf, he came to a considerable heap of stones, or carnedd, covered with earth, which he removed with some degree of caution, and got to a cist formed of coarse flags canted and covered over. On removing the lid, he found it contained an urn placed with its mouth downwards, full of ashes and half-calcined fragments of bone. The report of this discovery soon went abroad, and came to the ears of the parson of the parish, and another neighbouring clergyman, both fond of, and conversant in, Welsh antiquities, who were immediately reminded of a passage in one of the early Welsh romances, called the Mabinogion (or juvenile tales), the same that is quoted in Dr. Davies’s Latin and Welsh Dictionary, as well as in Richards’s, under the word Petrual (square).
‘Bedd petrual a wnaed i Fronwen ferch Lyr ar lan Alaw, ac yno y claddwyd hi.‘
A square grave was made for Bronwen, the daughter of Llyr, on the banks of the Alaw, and there she was buried.
Happening to be in Anglesea soon after this discovery, I could not resist the temptation of paying a visit to so memorable a spot, though separated from it by a distance of eighteen miles. I found it, in all local respects, exactly as described to me by the clergyman above mentioned, and as characterised by the cited passage from the romance. The tumulus, raised over the venerable deposit, was of considerable circuit, elegantly rounded, but low, about a dozen paces from the river Alaw. The Urn was preserved entire, with an exception of a small bit out of its lip, was ill-baked, very rude and simple, having no other ornament than little pricked dots, in height from about a foot to fourteen inches, and nearly of the following shape [you may see the picture on the link]. When I saw the urn, the ashes and half-calcined bones were in it.
From Lady Guest’s Mabinogion notes for Branwen Daughter of Llyr, at the Sacred Texts Archive:
sacred-texts.com/neu/celt/mab/mab23.htm
Archaeologists have uncovered what they believe is the broadest range of elaborately decorated prehistoric pottery ever found in Scotland, at the site for the new Kincardine Bridge. Other finds included ceremonial and working axes made with stone from the Ochil Hills.
The finds demonstrate just how far the River Forth has receded, as the “highly cultivated” site, which is three-quarters of a mile inland, was once on the waterfront.
see the rest of the article by George Mair at the Scotsman.com
news.scotsman.com/scotland.cfm?id=900472006
“Kingship & Sacrifice” will be officially opened by Arts Minister John O’Donoghue this afternoon at the Museum of Ireland in Dublin.
It’ll include the recently found bog bodies from Oldcroghan, Co Offaly and Clonycavan, Co Meath.
Admission is free. There’s a tour on the 24th June from 14:00-15:00.
museum.ie/index.asp
(spotted at online.ie
online.ie/News/News.aspx?newsId=385385
Once a year Yarnbury becomes reanimate, on the day of the Horse and Sheep Fair, October 4th, held in this lonely trysting place by immemorial tradtion. Here.. the flocks..stand close packed in pens; bunches of young ponies are tied up in one corner.. and near by are the sober cart-horses, their plaited manes and tails aprick with ornaments of straw. The vendor of sheep bells spreads his metal wares upon the ground.. the purchase of sheep bells is a serious matter, good ones costing as much as five shillings..In the good old days, up to within the memory of people still living, the fair was followed by horse races next day, and sports of all kinds. But now the pleasure part of the meeting has been abandoned; the folk disperse quietly soon after noon, when business is done, leaving Yarnbury to the silent occupation of its prehistoric ghosts for another year.
From Ella Noyes’s ‘Salisbury Plain’ (1913) (taken from a quote in Katy Jordan’s 2000 ‘Haunted Wiltshire’).
Interestingly(?) the parish boundary crosses the centre of the fort (though I’m afraid bridleways only skirt the edges).
Castle hill is a a univallate Iron Age fort with wide views across the Thames valley. Alfred Williams spoke to two haymakers from Lus Hill, who believed the camp was built by Oliver Cromwell. Cromwell’s men were also supposed to have had a shot at the Highworth church from here, with the cannonball that made the hole in the tower hanging in the church yet. * Highworth is a Long Way Away though!
*This from ‘Round About the Upper Thames’ by Williams (1922), quoted by Katy Jordan in her ‘Haunted Wiltshire’ (2000).
Arthur Shuttlewood records (in his imaginative ‘UFOs Over Warminster’ 1979) that “tradition has it that an early Saxon chieftain and his family were interred in the bald patch of earth on the top of the mound in the midst of tree growth” – neatly combining two common story themes – to ascribe prehistoric barrows to Saxons, and the idea that vegetation will not grow on certain graves.
This hillfort is on accessible land (under the CRoW act), and when it was surveyed it was found that there was “a previously unknown Neolithic stone setting approximately 300m north-west of the hillfort. The setting comprises two upright and four fallen stones set in a roughly rectangular pattern. These monuments are currently thought to be unique to Exmoor and are seen as part of the late Neolithic/early Bronze Age ceremonial landscape of the moor. ”
Details of the ‘virtual reality’ project, and links to opening hours, pictures and other information.
On the opposite side of the ravine, just above the point where the Bridgwater road is carried along the face of the hill, are traces of another and smaller Camp, called Dinghurst Damp. This has almost been destroyed by quarrying the stone, but sufficient of the rampart remains to show it was another strong position coeval with Dolebury, guarding the pass, or else constructed in after times as an additional security.
from the Proceedings of the Bath Field Club, v5 (1885).
the Doctor [Dr Bird, who’d been present at the opening of the Nympsfield Park barrow] stated that an old friend of his had told him many a time he and other boys had gone to [Uley] tumulus and had a fight with the “giants’ bones” in the chambers.
The clergyman of the parish, some time afterwards, had all the human bones collected and buried in the corner of the churchyard.
From v2 of the Bath Field Club proceedings, 1870-2.
An excursion to Uleybury from the early 1870s.
The group set off from Cam via a short cut “which was taken at the advice of one of the members always noted for his short cuts – which are generally found to have their existence in his internal consciousness and by no means to have any objectivity in themselves.” When the view opened up “the object of the excursion [was revealed] on the top of another hill in the distance, with a valley between.” (I think we’ve all been on a walk with him).
The large stone which covered and protected the entrance to the chambers having fallen down, considerable difficulty was found in gaining admittance at all, as the space at first appeared only sufficiently large for a rabbit run. By dint of wriggling in a most undignified manner, four of the thinnest, and of course, the most juvenile of the members feet foremost, and in a prone attitude were enabled to penetrate the innermost recesses...
The state of the [tumulus] was a subject of great regret to the Club, for unless something be done, and that speedily, to stay the mischief going on, another of the few remaining works of the early people of this island will be destroyed.
From the Proc. of the Bath Field Club v2 p241 (1870-2).
The destruction of.. Borough Walls, overhanging Nightingale Valley, revealed the construction of the walls. It had a triple rampart formed of loose stones, the principal rampart being run together with lime, so as to have a solid mass of concrete in the centre.
This had been produced by mixing the lime-stones with brushwood, which was set on fire, and then when heated, water was poured in, or the smouldering mass left open to the rain, and then fragments of stone cast in, so as to form by degrees a solid mass of concrete, which could not be dug through.
The whole was then banked up with earth and stones, and probably a palisade planted on the summit. All this has now been cleared away and we cannot but regret the loss of so interesting a structure. Hardly any trace of it remains.
From the Proceedings of the Bath Field Club, vol 5, p 4 (1885).
We find from Egil’s Saga, ch43, that about AD900 ‘Bjorn Hairld of Aurland in Sogn, who had fled from the fiords with Thora Hladhond, sister of Thorer Herse, was wrecked near Moseyjarborg’ (Mousa) and took shelter there until his ship was repaired, and he could continue his voyage to Iceland. Again in 1154, Erlend Junge, a chief from Hjaltland, fled with Earl Harald’s mother, Margaret, widow of Madadh of Atholl, and shut himself up in Mousa, where he stood a siege (p342 in the Orkneyinga Saga). Neither of these notices, however, necessarily implies that the broch was at these dates owned or occupied by any one, but rather the reverse.
Cribbed from
IV.—The Brocks or “Pictish Towers” of Cinn-Trolla, Carn-Liath,and
Craig-Carril, in Sutherland, with Notes on other Northern Brochs,
By the Rev. J. Maxwell Joass (c1871)
online here
Coflein suggests this is an Iron Age defended enclosure. The bank and ditch is only semicircular, because the other side used to butt up to the lake (it is now slightly further back).
Marie Trevelyan relates this story to the location:
A curious story is attached to Llyn Gwyn. St. Patrick passed it on his way to visit St. David. He was accompanied by another saint, and when they reached this lake one of them suggested resting awhile. This was done, and during the halt the saints discussed religion. Coming to a controversial point, the men grew irritable, and St. Patrick was very angry. Several Welsh people overheard the religious quarrel, and expressed surprise and annoyance. St. Patrick in spite turned them into fishes. One of the party was a woman, who was transformed into a white lady. She was often seen accompanied by flashes of light. On account of this insult to St. Patrick, the sun never shines upon the lake but during one week of the year. [William Howell, “Cambrian Superstitions.“]
And to think we say someone has the ‘patience of a saint’. They clearly never met St Patrick.
From “Folk-lore and folk-stories of Wales” 1909, online at
red4.co.uk/Folklore/trevelyan/welshfolklore/chapt1.htm
Wilcrick Hill is raised up above the surrounding soggy land of the Gwent Levels (and no doubt readily visible from the nearby M4). An article in ‘British Archaeology’ suggests that it was where cattle farmers who used the Levels in summer would retreat to for the winter months, when water levels rose. Three of their houses were found preserved in the peat at Barnard’s Farm, along with the hoof-prints of their cattle!
see
britarch.ac.uk/ba/ba49/ba49news.html
Llanmelin fort is run by CADW, so you can visit it (as long as you leave your dog at home). It was excavated in the 1930s, when finds confirmed its Iron Age roots, though it had been used later in medieval times. It may have been the capital of the Silures, before the wretched Romans whupped their behinds and built Caerwent to keep an eye on them, just to the south. The top of the fort has been cleared of trees, as you can see in this photo at ‘Gathering the Jewels’:
tlysau.org.uk/en/item1/1248
There is also a little outlying defended area to the north-east, by the road at ST 463928.
Castell Prin lurks on the steep rocky hillside inside its wood. The Coflein record describes it as defended enclosure with a bank and ditches, probably from the Iron Age. I think the name means means something along the lines of ‘empty/deserted fort’. There is the stone base of a structure 4x3m: perhaps the site was reused over time. A footpath does run to the south of the fort, from one side of the hill to the other.
Welbourn Tekh wonders if visions of angels on the mountain derive from the ‘brocken spectre’ illusion..
How many forts does one small area need? You have this site and Stokeleigh Camp on one side of the Avon Gorge, and Clifton Camp on the other. Burgh Walls has been transformed into Burwalls, a large house with gardens now owned by Bristol University. There are traces of the earthworks left: if you contacted the university they might let you look (they occasionally do tours).
The fort is mentioned in the Bath Field Club proceedings for 1877:
What shall we say of a building company which has lately consigned to utter destruction one of the most important and interesting historical monuments of this neighbourhood? I mean the camp on the Somerset side of the River Avon, called Bowre Walls, and opposite the camp on Clifton Down. This has been almost obliterated for the sake of the material of which the ramparts of the camp were composed, and which has been used in making roads! How much better to have preserved these ramparts entire, and have made them a part of the ornamental garden attached to the new villas erected on the heights over the Avon, and so associated the marks of ancient warfare with the elegancies of modern civilisation.
Surely it is necessary that some power should be given to prevent the monuments of past ages being wantonly destroyed, and we must be thankful that the subject has lately been brought under the consideration of Parliament.
This is a very pleasant spot to stroll round – there is an air of a park about it, as the hill was planted with all sorts of trees at one time. But you can make out the earthworks, admire the view over to the Breiddin Hills, and visit Kynaston’s cave with its attendant bats and folklore (Humphrey Kynaston was a bit of a local hero, with his Black Bess- style horse, Beelzebub). If you go out to the northwest tip of the fort, known as Oliver’s Point (after Oliver Cromwell? I don’t know – he’s blamed for a lot of things), there are some strange ballaun-style holes in the rock underfoot. Perhaps you know what they are? Cos I don’t.
This hillfort at Cheddington was only rediscovered in 1973 from aerial photos, as its ramparts had been ploughed for so long. It’s intervisible with Ivinghoe Beacon just a few miles to the east and could well have been occupied at the same time (people started living here in the Early to Middle Iron age*). From the bottom photo in the link below it seems that the hill continues to be an obvious spot in the landscape – visible from the road and railway (and most likely the canal too).
cheddington.web-labs.co.uk/thevillage/photos/scenes/?textonly=on
Cheddington was called ‘Cetendone’ in the Domesday survey, which apparently means ‘Cetta’s Hill’.
*from the scheduled monuments record via Magic.
A letter from the Reverend Stephens in the November 15th 1935 edition of The Times describes a striking experience on the hill.
There was thick mist from about 500ft, but being perfectly familiar with the route, and enjoying the weird isolation and unfamiliarity of the cloud-cap, I climbed to the highest point, which is marked by a large and ancient tumulus. Standing there, on what is thought to be the last resting-place of a British chieftain, I found I was actually above the mist, and in sunshine. Only the small circle of the ground forming the tumulus was visible and this gave me the sensation of standing on a colossal circular tower rising out of the seas of mist. As I gazed down on the moving surface of the sea, on the side away from the sun I was amazed to find the ‘spectre,’ a small rainbow-encircled shadow of myself which rose and fell, grew and diminished, with the movement of the mist, and which uncannily mocked all my movements. The spectrum colours were vivid and the experience unforgettable.
After the gradient-related excitement of Porlock Hill you feel on top of the world up here. You can see for miles and miles – back up to the Quantocks and out over the (yesterday, gloriously blue) Severn estuary to Wales. Exmoor ponies nibble around you while you lie back on the heathery/bilberried slope.
Typically I had no idea at the time that this site or the Whit Stones were up here.. but they’re in the perfect spot and I can’t say I’m surprised (which is why I feel justified in my fieldnote despite not seeing them..)
There’s the common vague feeling that this is a ‘Roman’ fort (it is true that a Roman site is nearby). Maybe the excavations will highlight that the occasional thing did happen before the Romans turned up in this country.
It seems you can go on a tour of the fort on the 29th June:
rspb.org.uk/england/central/events/index.asp?id=tcm:5-99339
also, from Biggleswade Today
biggleswadetoday.co.uk/ViewArticle2.aspx?SectionID=182&ArticleID=1529221
Excavations to try and unearth buried secrets of an Iron Age fort began at a Sandy nature reserve this week.
Archaeologists are carrying out a one-week dig on Sandy Warren’s Galley Hill Fort in a joint project between English Heritage and the RSPB.
It is hoped the £12,000 project will shed light on who lived there and what the area, believed to date back to 250BC, was used for.
Peter Bradley, RSPB site manager, said: “The reason for the work is, as far as we know, it has never been dug in the past and we would like to know more about it, particularly for when it is opened up to the public in a couple of years’ time.
“The idea is it would be seen from a very long way away by other tribes. It could have been defensive or a market place, or where people lived. We don’t know yet what use this fort had.”
A JCB digger is being used to excavate the banks and bore holes will be dug to uncover any remains.
[Lots of the land at the RSPB site here is being cleared of trees to return it to heathland – so it should be easier to see how it fits into the local landscape?]
“Aerial Photography and Archaeology – 100 Years of Discovery”
This travelling exhibition will display historic and modern photos and illustrations. It will be at Stonehenge from August 1-7, when a Virgin balloon will give ‘some visitors’* the chance to take their own aerial snaps.
The exhibition will also be shown at Old Sarum, the Alexander Keiller Museum in Avebury, Salisbury Museum, Devizes Museum, and the Royal Engineers’ Museum in Gillingham.
*whatever that means.
courtesy of Hob, two links to more information:
24hourmuseum.org.uk/nwh_gfx_en/ART38599.html
I suppose this must be the Carn Boscawen referred to by Hunt in ‘Popular Romances of the West of England’?
Dr Borlase has been laughed at for finding rock-basins, the works of the Druids, in every granitic mass. At the same time, those who laugh have failed to examine those rock-masses with unprejudiced care, and hence they have erred as wildly as did the Cornish antiquary, but in a contrary direction. Hundreds of depressions are being formed by the winds and rains upon the faces of the granite rocks. With these no Druid ever perplexed himself or his people. But there are numerous hollows to be found in large flat rocks which have unmistakably been formed, if not entirely, partly by the hands of man. The Sacrificing Rock, or Carn Brea, is a remarkable example. The larger hollows on the Men-rock, in Constantine, several basins in the Logan Rock group, and at Carn Boscawen, may be referred to as other examples.
Online at
sacred-texts.com/neu/eng/prwe/prwe065.htm
courtesy of the excellent ‘sacred texts’ website.
Four of the five (Neolithic?) cairns here have chambers. There are three photos online here.
(not to be confused with the Morfa Bychan near Porthmadog)
It was from Gilman Point that there was a famous sighting of a mermaid in 1603. A pamplet describing it can be found on the ‘Gathering the Jewels’ website:
gtj.org.uk/en/item1/26001
(the caption says ‘Gybnanes Poynt’ but this is a blatant misreading of ‘Gylmanes Poynt’, as you can see when you enlarge the image at gtj.org.uk/en/blowup6/26004)
Thomas Raynold, ‘a very honest and substantial yeoman’, watched the mermaid for two hours as it swam about between Gilman’s Point and Dolman Point. He was worried that he wouldn’t be believed so he grabbed some villagers and they watched it for a bit longer. It apparently had the usual hands, lovely hair and face that you’d expect from a mermaid. However, it was ‘browne’ or ‘gray’ in colour. Surely coastal people know a mermaid when they see one.
This iron-age promontory fort has a substantial bank and ditch on the side away from the sea, but there’s also a strange rounded ‘annex’ on the far side of the bank. Hut circles have been found in both areas.
(info from Coflein)
A new pecked chevron design has been found at Barclodiad y Gawres – bringing the total of decorated slabs at the site to six. It was initially discovered by amateur archaeologists Maggie and Keith Davidson, and officially recorded by rock art experts this month. The carving is very faint, which is why it was probably overlooked when the tomb was excavated in the 1950s.