My parents grew up around this area and as a very small child I remember being brought from my home city of Bath (not so very far away) to play at the tump one very frosty morning. Now 15 and taking my gcses, I was looking out of the car window as we drove to visit my grandparents (also local to the area) when I was suddenly reminded of this beautiful site. I asked if we could visit.
A 20 minute trip later and I was raving about the place – absolutly inspired for my pending art exam piece “architecture.” The next day found me sitting, protected from the howling storm outside, with candle and camera in hand and with only a large black spider and the slightly uncomfortable feeling of something else’s presense for company.
For me this place brought about a huge conflict of emotions. An overbearing feeling of warmth and womb-like protection coupled with the nagging reminder that I was sitting in a mass grave... The entrance is narrow, low-down and invisible once corners have been turned. Did anybody else feel that unease?
I’ll be back as soon as possible.
Tove
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