The other day I was round my dad’s. It was a sunny day, and I didn’t fancy spending the whole day cooped up indoors. I got my dad to give me a lift up to Kit’s Coty, a strange isolated place nearby, which has the remains of a Neolithic barrow there. The barrow isn’t very evident these days, but the gate into the tomb is still there. There are more houses round there than I’d thought, all detached with big gates and long drives and beware of the dog signs, and on unpaved roads. It was totally quiet and a bit David Lynchish round there.
See, David Lynch land.
This made me laugh for some reason.
Investigating some plants with a cheap magnifying glass I had in my bag. Cos that’s how I roll. (i.e., carrying round loads of crap in case it’s vaguely useful)
Through the woods.
I like tangled tree roots.
Through the trees.
Secret Wendy house.
The stones themselves. There were some other people walking round them anti-clockwise. I’m far too ridiculously superstitious to walk around anything like that widdershins (like the tour path encourages you to do at Stonehenge). I also salute and count magpies. I’m ridiculously superstitious for such a decided atheist.
The shape of the barrow isn’t very obvious these days.