Houseboy and the Stones

Yesterday, the houseboy and I took a little roadtrip round some favourite parts of our corner of this green and pleasant land.

Heavy mist obscured much of the landscape, unfortunately, but it was still a nice day for soaking it up and taking it in.

The fields look particularly bleak at the moment, lined by the rows of skeleton poplars and birches. As we zipped through Dorset and Hampshire, into Wiltshire, there were many more fields lined with drifts of dirty snow that remained unmelted after last week’s big freeze. And as we drove out of Pewsey, we saw a solid layer of ice on the Kennet Canal.

After diverting through some quaint, olde English villages, and a private estate with it’s own country manor, we were heading west on the A4 from Marlborough towards Avebury. The fields along this road contain barrows and stones and tumuli that are filled with the magic and history of a lost civilization. Only myth and conjecture remain, in regards to the origins and purposes of places like Silbury Hill and West Kennet Long Barrow.

I looked over at Houseboy and his eyes looked moist. He said it felt like coming home. I’ve already heard his stories about days spent sitting in the long barrow, searching for himself. Today though, the barrow seemed to be hiding from view. I guess she was not taking visitors. When I suggested that we stop there, he said, “Noooo,” with quite some authority.

We drove on and the gentle, rough-carved giants of Avebury Stone Circle emerged from the mist. They are such a strange and soothing sight. Unlike the other famous Wiltshire Henge, these stones are freely accessible to the public, and in fact, their circular construct is bisected by the two roads that run North to South and East to West. Covering a wider area too, exploring this henge and adjoining stone avenue is more of a ramble than a view.

Groups of people in raincoats, hats and boots emerged and returned into the mist. And we took up a spot by the open fire at the Red Lion, for some lunch.

Last stop of the day was Marlborough, a mediaeval charter town – home to a very elite independent school, whose pretty campus dominates one side of town. The old town is said to have connections with Merlin, but I’ve yet to discover the details. Before we left I noticed one sign on a board with an old image of the church tower that said ‘Merle Berg’, which hints at the origin of the town’s modern name and a possible link with Merlin.

I caught this shot of Houseboy, extremely camera-shy, as we walked near the stones in Avebury: