Thursday 9th September
Well today was our first day trawling around a city, Bristol City to be precise and I just love saying those words Bristol City - probably one of the first naughty rhyming slang expressions I ever learned from my old man - whoah hey - she's got a nice pair of Bristols...it was all downhill from there I can tell you.
And en-route along the country roads I couldn't help but notice the stark difference in approach to things here compared with South Africa. Here, they aim to take people out of the equation at roadworks where a traffic lane is blocked. Whereas we have the workers (?) in the middle and one person at either side of the detour playing with flags and rotating STOP/GO signs, the English have a fully synchronised automated set of mini traffic lights set up so that one bloke can do the entire gig.
Just think how much more crime there would be in SA if we automated all those sad flag waving twats out of work as well...
We stopped off in Leigh Woods en-route to Bristol and partook of a casual stroll around the place.
It's what's so nice about the English countryside - no matter where you are, there's a forest close by or a place to walk and enjoy nature.
Although this must've been a South African forest as there were very big oaks everywhere dressed in green...(sorry - lame I know but it was funny this morning...)
Then on to Bristol where we crossed over Brunel's suspension bridge spanning the Avon Gorge, the first one ever built I'm reliably told, however, my in-laws clearly know nothing about the cross-dimensional construction of the Giza pyramids by Thoth, the Atlantean who I'm sure could have manifested a suspension bridge in a matter of nanoseconds. I felt it unwise to embark on this particular line of speculation at the time as it would have killed the moment and detracted from the godlike status Isambard Kingdom Brunel (that was his name, I kid you not) enjoys in these parts. And he was a singular fellow by all accounts which is odd as most civil engineers that I've worked with are just boring bastards with all the wit and panache of a salted slug.
The bridge was impressive though - even if short by modern standards and the way people behave on the roads here is also quite startling - us Seffrican anarchists are constantly taken aback by the decorum and consideration shown by local motorists - it's just not normal.
Bristol seems like a nice (love the vagueness of that word) city which is neat, clean and populated by lots of bouncy students, looking even bouncier thanks to the wonderful sunshine that is following us through this trip.
We lunched at an unpretentious little cafe called Rocatello's where Karen and I experienced "curly" fries for the very first time and man you gotta love the good old British potato in any manner or form. Curly fries are a wonderful invention and make chip eating so much more interesting than anything the Americans could come up with. (If anyone tells me that the yanks invented curly fries, I think I'll vomit in my mouth right now!)
On to the Bristol Museum & Art Gallery which, surprisingly, didn't feature nearly enough of Banksy's work if you ask me but Karen did spot a few of his graffiti in and around the place as we strolled after lunch down to the harbourside area.
A ferry trip to a quaint little pub where we supped on beer/cider etc. while watching the locals and listening to them saying arrrrrr and stuff like that. I think the place was called The Bumcombe Inn as Karen made an inappropriate remark about buttock hair which we all found totally distasteful - or perhaps on reflection it may have been me...
Another splendid, peaceful and relaxed day in the south western environs of Mud Island - a jolly good time was had by all.
And tomorrow on to Devon...ah well.
Goo goo ga joob...
Friday, 15 October 2010
NOTES FROM MUD ISLAND PART 5
Wednesday 8th September
We thought we had it sussed with our anti-rain manoeuvres the night before, however, as we neared Stonehenge, the rain began to drizzle down and the sky just fuzzed over with grey.
I'll load Karen's photos later onto the Mud Island album but you'll see how washed out the day looks compared with the brightness of Avebury.
Without the benefit of a GPS unit and with the added confusion of a primary and secondary navigator (Tracy and Paul respectively), the meandering route to Stonehenge was very interesting and I cannot recall how many villages we passed through. Many. A lot. Plenty. Loads. Millions even...
As we suspected a few days ago, we're certainly in Star Wars territory as we noticed a Wookie Hole then there was Chew Magna which must be a local misspelling of Chewbacca, the most famous Wookie of all time thanks to George Lucas. Sightings of some locals confirmed that there were indeed aliens in our midst although they had shed their body hair in an attempt to blend in with the resident humans. It didn't work. We could see which were which.
Stonehenge was blustery and miserable with hordes of Asian, Dutch and German tourists whom I thought to be incredibly rude as they weren't at all interested in the sacred ancient monolithic structure but simply stood around listening on their mobiles.
As I neared I realised they were all using the informative audio devices to gain an insight into the monument and its history.
Ah how quickly technology reduces us to looking more like morons every day.
Karen braved the rain while I meandered back to the car to munch snacks with Robin & Tracy and grumble about the weather but as Robin so sagely observed: "If you wait for weather to clear in this country, you'll never go anywhere ever - you just do it and hope for the best..."
How true this proved to be for a short trip to Avebury found us in a totally different climate with bright blue skies and puffy cumulus clouds overhead. And, it has to be said, a totally different vibe - a much more pleasant one where you can walk among the standing stones and actually touch them. I realise that allowing public access to Stonehenge would reduce it to a vandalised ruin within months (well it would in South Africa in any event) but the knowledge of the millions of feet that have trodden the grass perimeter some way distant from the trilithons, sarsens and blue stones ahead of me just seemed to dampen my enthusiasm along with the grey weather. No disrespect to the Druids, hippy people and other space cadets who tramp the Stonehenge mystic pathway to whatever it is they get from it and I am as taken by the miraculousness of the solar alignment of the site and all that represents - but it just wasn't inspiring today. It sucked.
Avebury, on the other hand, was peaceful, warm, uplifting and had a much better goodies shop with the prospect of crop circle visits (all laid out on a map). Unfortunately, all the demarcated circles had been lost in the recent harvesting but we got the number of a local guide who checks up on the latest occurrences as and when they appear. May check that out on another visit. Has to be done.
The whole place was amazingly imbued with a profoundly placid energy which seemed to set our mood for the way home.
As usual, the gemstones and crystals were minutely inspected by Karen who bought a crystal skull - in the form of an alien Grey no less. Which only goes to prove that they do actually exist after all but I had no idea they were that small. Perhaps there are Martian headshrinkers just like we had here on old Terra.
Perhaps my need for food at that time had kicked in - either way, it was another fabulous day out with the most interesting simulacra on display all around us.
And our sixty odd quid on the National Trust membership for the year has paid for itself in the last 2 days - brilliant.
Tomorrow we have booked for a half day spa and some self-indulgent pampering back in Yatton.
Ah well - what is life for but to enjoy it?
Goo goo ga joob...
We thought we had it sussed with our anti-rain manoeuvres the night before, however, as we neared Stonehenge, the rain began to drizzle down and the sky just fuzzed over with grey.
I'll load Karen's photos later onto the Mud Island album but you'll see how washed out the day looks compared with the brightness of Avebury.
Without the benefit of a GPS unit and with the added confusion of a primary and secondary navigator (Tracy and Paul respectively), the meandering route to Stonehenge was very interesting and I cannot recall how many villages we passed through. Many. A lot. Plenty. Loads. Millions even...
As we suspected a few days ago, we're certainly in Star Wars territory as we noticed a Wookie Hole then there was Chew Magna which must be a local misspelling of Chewbacca, the most famous Wookie of all time thanks to George Lucas. Sightings of some locals confirmed that there were indeed aliens in our midst although they had shed their body hair in an attempt to blend in with the resident humans. It didn't work. We could see which were which.
Stonehenge was blustery and miserable with hordes of Asian, Dutch and German tourists whom I thought to be incredibly rude as they weren't at all interested in the sacred ancient monolithic structure but simply stood around listening on their mobiles.
As I neared I realised they were all using the informative audio devices to gain an insight into the monument and its history.
Ah how quickly technology reduces us to looking more like morons every day.
Karen braved the rain while I meandered back to the car to munch snacks with Robin & Tracy and grumble about the weather but as Robin so sagely observed: "If you wait for weather to clear in this country, you'll never go anywhere ever - you just do it and hope for the best..."
How true this proved to be for a short trip to Avebury found us in a totally different climate with bright blue skies and puffy cumulus clouds overhead. And, it has to be said, a totally different vibe - a much more pleasant one where you can walk among the standing stones and actually touch them. I realise that allowing public access to Stonehenge would reduce it to a vandalised ruin within months (well it would in South Africa in any event) but the knowledge of the millions of feet that have trodden the grass perimeter some way distant from the trilithons, sarsens and blue stones ahead of me just seemed to dampen my enthusiasm along with the grey weather. No disrespect to the Druids, hippy people and other space cadets who tramp the Stonehenge mystic pathway to whatever it is they get from it and I am as taken by the miraculousness of the solar alignment of the site and all that represents - but it just wasn't inspiring today. It sucked.
Avebury, on the other hand, was peaceful, warm, uplifting and had a much better goodies shop with the prospect of crop circle visits (all laid out on a map). Unfortunately, all the demarcated circles had been lost in the recent harvesting but we got the number of a local guide who checks up on the latest occurrences as and when they appear. May check that out on another visit. Has to be done.
The whole place was amazingly imbued with a profoundly placid energy which seemed to set our mood for the way home.
As usual, the gemstones and crystals were minutely inspected by Karen who bought a crystal skull - in the form of an alien Grey no less. Which only goes to prove that they do actually exist after all but I had no idea they were that small. Perhaps there are Martian headshrinkers just like we had here on old Terra.
Perhaps my need for food at that time had kicked in - either way, it was another fabulous day out with the most interesting simulacra on display all around us.
And our sixty odd quid on the National Trust membership for the year has paid for itself in the last 2 days - brilliant.
Tomorrow we have booked for a half day spa and some self-indulgent pampering back in Yatton.
Ah well - what is life for but to enjoy it?
Goo goo ga joob...
NOTES FROM MUD ISLAND PART 4
Monday 6th September
Low cloud and a forecast of ongoing drizzle didn't dampen our spirits today - no siree bob!
We willed away the grey and forced some blue to brighten our day as we set off once again for Glastonbury - this time a tad earlier, perhaps because we weren't trying to rendezvous with Rex Dunlop aka Kurt Alexander aka Zhig O'lo (it's a long story - ask me when we get back...)
And so we laughed, we cried with the banter and repartee between the travelers especially Tracy's directions, Robin's lack thereof and our collective lack of observation concerning road signs at traffic circles / roundabouts. Thus we ended up somewhere in Glastonbury suburbia at a quaint little enclave entitled Leg Of Mutton Road (I shit you not - see the pics for yourself).
Turning back after the photo op was completed - much to the consternation of local drivers behind us - we trundled down to Glastonbury and set out for The Tor where the wind whipped us relentlessly but the hazy views were still fantastic - again that "Here In England It's So Green" vibe - you can't get away from it. Pastoral, gentle rolling hills, fields and meadows then an overwhelming urge to piss drove us down to the Chalice Well site where Karen bought jewelry.
Piss complete, jewelry safely stowed, blessings of the sacred depths upon us, we gave some Indian travelers very vague directions to Street (a village nearby). The: "just head down this street until you're in town and see a sign to Street then follow it..." seemed to bamboozle them no end and I have no idea why.
We returned to our (new) old haunt of the splendidly vegetarian Blue Note Cafe where we partook of haloumi burgers while observing a very sickly serene expression permanently etched onto the face of a gowned young new-age woman who was about as convincing as a soap powder advert. Her vegetarian lunch notwithstanding, it was clear she had not only reached Glastonbury but had sashayed into nirvana simultaneously. I suspect her hippy boyfriend was probably hung like a donkey hence the doe-eyed Mona-Lisa smirk but if that's what it takes to achieve total enlightenment then what the fuck...
Following lunch, Karen headed back to the shop in which she'd been seduced first time around and - guess what - bought some more jewelry - a Libyan gold tektite scarab ring accompanied by a pair of gold and moldavite earrings in the shape of little star-tetrahedrons - very beautiful. But I managed to maintain firm denial during this piece of retail therapy by tossing a rubber toy for the owner's very cute labrador-cross - once started, hard to stop...and fairly disruptive in the tiny square as doddery old hippies scattered in Jaydee's slobbery, manic wake. That was real fun I can tell you. I thought their whole bag was love, man - but I got some really filthy looks. Peace, baby, peace...
Dark enlightenment (pardon the oxymoron) followed shortly thereafter by virtue of a self-proclaimed guru in a small crystal shop in the middle of Glastonbury - I had no idea there was someone else on the planet who knew as much as me yet could get it so spectacularly wrong but there you have it - she must be the antipaul or something...(tosser ;-) )
As you can imagine, we were exhausted after such a strenuous day of doing absolutely fuck all really so we headed off to Cheddar where we ate the best scones that have ever been made enhanced by clotted cream and fresh strawberry jam at The Simply Gorgeous Tea Room while listening to cars hiss by through the rain outside. Sweet shops, hot mulled scrumpy (the women had that) then Cheddar cheddar and back to the Pengelley pad for a lazy evening of TV and dishwashing I guess...
Sigh...we're gonna do a reverse-rain-dance tonight to ensure the skies clear before morning.
Watch this space
Goo goo goo joob xx
Low cloud and a forecast of ongoing drizzle didn't dampen our spirits today - no siree bob!
We willed away the grey and forced some blue to brighten our day as we set off once again for Glastonbury - this time a tad earlier, perhaps because we weren't trying to rendezvous with Rex Dunlop aka Kurt Alexander aka Zhig O'lo (it's a long story - ask me when we get back...)
And so we laughed, we cried with the banter and repartee between the travelers especially Tracy's directions, Robin's lack thereof and our collective lack of observation concerning road signs at traffic circles / roundabouts. Thus we ended up somewhere in Glastonbury suburbia at a quaint little enclave entitled Leg Of Mutton Road (I shit you not - see the pics for yourself).
Turning back after the photo op was completed - much to the consternation of local drivers behind us - we trundled down to Glastonbury and set out for The Tor where the wind whipped us relentlessly but the hazy views were still fantastic - again that "Here In England It's So Green" vibe - you can't get away from it. Pastoral, gentle rolling hills, fields and meadows then an overwhelming urge to piss drove us down to the Chalice Well site where Karen bought jewelry.
Piss complete, jewelry safely stowed, blessings of the sacred depths upon us, we gave some Indian travelers very vague directions to Street (a village nearby). The: "just head down this street until you're in town and see a sign to Street then follow it..." seemed to bamboozle them no end and I have no idea why.
We returned to our (new) old haunt of the splendidly vegetarian Blue Note Cafe where we partook of haloumi burgers while observing a very sickly serene expression permanently etched onto the face of a gowned young new-age woman who was about as convincing as a soap powder advert. Her vegetarian lunch notwithstanding, it was clear she had not only reached Glastonbury but had sashayed into nirvana simultaneously. I suspect her hippy boyfriend was probably hung like a donkey hence the doe-eyed Mona-Lisa smirk but if that's what it takes to achieve total enlightenment then what the fuck...
Following lunch, Karen headed back to the shop in which she'd been seduced first time around and - guess what - bought some more jewelry - a Libyan gold tektite scarab ring accompanied by a pair of gold and moldavite earrings in the shape of little star-tetrahedrons - very beautiful. But I managed to maintain firm denial during this piece of retail therapy by tossing a rubber toy for the owner's very cute labrador-cross - once started, hard to stop...and fairly disruptive in the tiny square as doddery old hippies scattered in Jaydee's slobbery, manic wake. That was real fun I can tell you. I thought their whole bag was love, man - but I got some really filthy looks. Peace, baby, peace...
Dark enlightenment (pardon the oxymoron) followed shortly thereafter by virtue of a self-proclaimed guru in a small crystal shop in the middle of Glastonbury - I had no idea there was someone else on the planet who knew as much as me yet could get it so spectacularly wrong but there you have it - she must be the antipaul or something...(tosser ;-) )
As you can imagine, we were exhausted after such a strenuous day of doing absolutely fuck all really so we headed off to Cheddar where we ate the best scones that have ever been made enhanced by clotted cream and fresh strawberry jam at The Simply Gorgeous Tea Room while listening to cars hiss by through the rain outside. Sweet shops, hot mulled scrumpy (the women had that) then Cheddar cheddar and back to the Pengelley pad for a lazy evening of TV and dishwashing I guess...
Sigh...we're gonna do a reverse-rain-dance tonight to ensure the skies clear before morning.
Watch this space
Goo goo goo joob xx
NOTES FROM MUD ISLAND PART 3
Sunday 5th September
In answer to Mr Griggs' query about our interesting day today - well it was rather quiet in fact with another visit to the freaky precincts of Weston-Super-Mud/Mare - not to view the Darwinian dropouts but rather to have a gawk at the sand sculpture exhibition down on the beach which was very entertaining.
Larger than life renderings of such diverse personages from Wallace & Gromit to Maggie Thatcher & Prince Charles done Spitting Image style were just great.
Sitting by the English seaside eating mushy peas and chips on the promenade while watching the passing freak-show provided an hour or two of fascination for us.
Anyone who is into manufacturing and/or selling and/or maintaining the frail people's motorised buggies must be worth a mint regardless of where you go - there are thousands of the things.
Eminently practical for sure but one cannot help noticing that the average age of people around you seems far higher than that of South Africa hence, I suppose, the need for these electrical perambulatory devices which Tracy (my ever irreverent sister-in-law) has dubbed NDW's.
When I asked her what that meant, she wickedly replied: Nearly Dead Wagons....
And another day shuffles to a close here in sometimes sunny, sometimes overcast Somerset in the south west of Mud Island and you know I have to say - not a bad day at all.
Watch this space for photos which will be appearing soon.
In answer to Mr Griggs' query about our interesting day today - well it was rather quiet in fact with another visit to the freaky precincts of Weston-Super-Mud/Mare - not to view the Darwinian dropouts but rather to have a gawk at the sand sculpture exhibition down on the beach which was very entertaining.
Larger than life renderings of such diverse personages from Wallace & Gromit to Maggie Thatcher & Prince Charles done Spitting Image style were just great.
Sitting by the English seaside eating mushy peas and chips on the promenade while watching the passing freak-show provided an hour or two of fascination for us.
Anyone who is into manufacturing and/or selling and/or maintaining the frail people's motorised buggies must be worth a mint regardless of where you go - there are thousands of the things.
Eminently practical for sure but one cannot help noticing that the average age of people around you seems far higher than that of South Africa hence, I suppose, the need for these electrical perambulatory devices which Tracy (my ever irreverent sister-in-law) has dubbed NDW's.
When I asked her what that meant, she wickedly replied: Nearly Dead Wagons....
And another day shuffles to a close here in sometimes sunny, sometimes overcast Somerset in the south west of Mud Island and you know I have to say - not a bad day at all.
Watch this space for photos which will be appearing soon.
NOTES FROM MUD ISLAND PART 2
Sunday 5th September
Thanks for the heads-up Lana - I get it. But the rambling would have been what it was in any event so this thread may continue with some more meandering unless I keep the UK journal via my notes - I don't really care being on holiday and all.
Obtained some interesting perspectives on England from a few Seffrican/Zimbabwean imports last night - people who've been here for between 2 - 15 years and it's an immutable truism that people's impressions are shaped by their personal circumstances regardless of the country they're in or the customs into which they're immersed.
The short-termer whose circumstances were much harder than the others I spoke to, had a far more critical view of the place than those who "had it better" both personally and financially. And as my fantastically psychotic sister-in-law observed so sagely: anyone who is stressing financially will find it hard to enjoy life no matter where they are.
And that is so true.
My own impressions (after 2 days!) - too early to tell and I haven't really had any interaction with the locals other than people in shops and cafes etc. and, just like in South Africa, I find that people respond to me depending upon my own mood and approach - in other words, they've been absolutely great.
And the stuttering light of morning has dawned into the more familiar drizzly grey weather of Beatles' I Am The Walrus reflection:
Sitting in an English garden waiting for the sun
If the sun don't come
You get a tan from standing in the English rain
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen
I am the walrus,
goo goo goo joob
goo goo goo joob
And on that profound pearl of wisdom - goo goo goo joob, folks
Thanks for the heads-up Lana - I get it. But the rambling would have been what it was in any event so this thread may continue with some more meandering unless I keep the UK journal via my notes - I don't really care being on holiday and all.
Obtained some interesting perspectives on England from a few Seffrican/Zimbabwean imports last night - people who've been here for between 2 - 15 years and it's an immutable truism that people's impressions are shaped by their personal circumstances regardless of the country they're in or the customs into which they're immersed.
The short-termer whose circumstances were much harder than the others I spoke to, had a far more critical view of the place than those who "had it better" both personally and financially. And as my fantastically psychotic sister-in-law observed so sagely: anyone who is stressing financially will find it hard to enjoy life no matter where they are.
And that is so true.
My own impressions (after 2 days!) - too early to tell and I haven't really had any interaction with the locals other than people in shops and cafes etc. and, just like in South Africa, I find that people respond to me depending upon my own mood and approach - in other words, they've been absolutely great.
And the stuttering light of morning has dawned into the more familiar drizzly grey weather of Beatles' I Am The Walrus reflection:
Sitting in an English garden waiting for the sun
If the sun don't come
You get a tan from standing in the English rain
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen
I am the walrus,
goo goo goo joob
goo goo goo joob
And on that profound pearl of wisdom - goo goo goo joob, folks
NOTES FROM MUD ISLAND PART 1
The chronicles and meandering waffle from our trip around the UK in Sophie Skoda...
Sunday September 5th
Interesting day in Glastonbury watching geriatric hippy folk amble around the town square - really shoo-wowish - haven't seen so many tie-dyed fabrics, dreadlocks and filthy denim for a while. Oh, the abbey and the tor were interesting too...and as Thomas Dolby said:Here in England it's so greenMartian men can move unseen...
Well now chronologically: yes indeed, David (Faye says everyone only ever calls you Mr Griggs so bollocks to that), I am measuring my vacational success by the degrees to which ennui overshadows my fervent ability to do as little as possible with innate enjoyment.
So far so good.
Traipsing after Karen through all the little crystal and psuedo-wiccan shops was more than interesting although I did feel a bit like her feline familiar rather than a husbank (oops sorry - Freudian slip there) husband!
And Mr Closs, yes indeed, we'll be visiting the auld fowk in the last 2 weeks of September aroon Edinburgh, Perth, Pitlochry, Dundee etc. (aw on the east coast - nane ae yer Glescae rubbish noo) ;-)
My sister, Norma arrives from South Africa via Portugal around 18th and we're hooking up with her to do the Scottish leg.
Some of our relatives are getting very long in the tooth now so this may be our last opportunity to see them - kinda bittersweet visit in that sense but cathartic in a way as well.
And Lana, my green-eyed sister - we'll have to revisit Glastonbury as we arrived late following an eye-opening visit to the shallowest of gene-ponds in Weston-Super-Mare (sounds like a gender-confused equine superhero) to buy myself a local mobile package for the month.
It is affectionately (or not) known as Weston-Super-Mud given the silty nature of the tidal flow in the estuary there. Some of the residents looked like they'd recently crawled amphibiously from the slime that very morning and bipedal locomotion was altogether new to them...but I digress.
Glastonbury needs a relook and we wanted to spend a little more time visiting the chalice well and the tor which we didn't get to and frankly want to see more privately to get the most from the experience. So we'll make a plan next week.
Today off to Wells (I can only ever hear the immortal line from Blackadder II) - "It's the baby-eating bishop of Bath and Wells..." as he bursts in on Edmund who is snugged up with a strumpet whom he introduces as "...a very dear friend of his..." and to which she replies: "I'm not dear at all actually considering all the weird, kinky..."
Edmund interrupts timeously - well you get the picture.
It's a beautiful part of the world I must confess and we half expected to see knights on horseback thundering across the meadows or pox-ridden serfs wailing at the roadside but truth be told - just aging hippies with interesting aromas and even more interesting tonsorial arrangements...Ah England - so civilised. (I wonder when we'll see that bit...?)
Sunday September 5th
Interesting day in Glastonbury watching geriatric hippy folk amble around the town square - really shoo-wowish - haven't seen so many tie-dyed fabrics, dreadlocks and filthy denim for a while. Oh, the abbey and the tor were interesting too...and as Thomas Dolby said:Here in England it's so greenMartian men can move unseen...
Well now chronologically: yes indeed, David (Faye says everyone only ever calls you Mr Griggs so bollocks to that), I am measuring my vacational success by the degrees to which ennui overshadows my fervent ability to do as little as possible with innate enjoyment.
So far so good.
Traipsing after Karen through all the little crystal and psuedo-wiccan shops was more than interesting although I did feel a bit like her feline familiar rather than a husbank (oops sorry - Freudian slip there) husband!
And Mr Closs, yes indeed, we'll be visiting the auld fowk in the last 2 weeks of September aroon Edinburgh, Perth, Pitlochry, Dundee etc. (aw on the east coast - nane ae yer Glescae rubbish noo) ;-)
My sister, Norma arrives from South Africa via Portugal around 18th and we're hooking up with her to do the Scottish leg.
Some of our relatives are getting very long in the tooth now so this may be our last opportunity to see them - kinda bittersweet visit in that sense but cathartic in a way as well.
And Lana, my green-eyed sister - we'll have to revisit Glastonbury as we arrived late following an eye-opening visit to the shallowest of gene-ponds in Weston-Super-Mare (sounds like a gender-confused equine superhero) to buy myself a local mobile package for the month.
It is affectionately (or not) known as Weston-Super-Mud given the silty nature of the tidal flow in the estuary there. Some of the residents looked like they'd recently crawled amphibiously from the slime that very morning and bipedal locomotion was altogether new to them...but I digress.
Glastonbury needs a relook and we wanted to spend a little more time visiting the chalice well and the tor which we didn't get to and frankly want to see more privately to get the most from the experience. So we'll make a plan next week.
Today off to Wells (I can only ever hear the immortal line from Blackadder II) - "It's the baby-eating bishop of Bath and Wells..." as he bursts in on Edmund who is snugged up with a strumpet whom he introduces as "...a very dear friend of his..." and to which she replies: "I'm not dear at all actually considering all the weird, kinky..."
Edmund interrupts timeously - well you get the picture.
It's a beautiful part of the world I must confess and we half expected to see knights on horseback thundering across the meadows or pox-ridden serfs wailing at the roadside but truth be told - just aging hippies with interesting aromas and even more interesting tonsorial arrangements...Ah England - so civilised. (I wonder when we'll see that bit...?)
Wednesday, 30 December 2009
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