In the howling, bitterly cold wind, we managed to marvel at the gigantic stones of Avebury in their mystical display of religion and cult. We had to walk amongst grazing sheep, under the threatening gaze of a mean-looking ram, and of course, all the sheep poop that came with them.
The ring of stones covers a big expanse of several miles, including crossing a few roads. The size of the rocks is 3 X Al's height and width, with outstretched arms, so trying to imagine them being manouvered across many miles (some from Wales) and buried 1/3 deep, only with antlers and buck shoulder blades, is near impossible. We didn't even want to touch them, even though we are allowed amongst them, it felt too sanctimonious to defile them.
After the obligatory scones and clotted cream, a short drive later, we were face to face with Stonehenge rocks, albeit from a short marked off distance. This time in stinging rain! Covering a smaller area, but equally impressive in rock size and mysticism, sadly though, only a fleeting visit due to the abusive nature of the wind and rain.
A welcoming bolt-hole in Standerwick by the fire for lunch, with the inevitable dog-wag who runs the pub.
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