Some very wise friends have given me good advice: when the sun comes out in England, drop everything and get outside. Soak it up. Revel. Raise your face to the sky and store up your overdue recharge of solar power. If you’re having a bad day, so much the better. Get out of the house and plunge into the gorgeous scenery this country has to offer.
And so we took ourselves off to Avebury, Stonehenge’s slightly less well known, but far more approachable, sibling.
The village of Avebury sits inside the large ring of stone and earthwork that make up the Henge.
Or enter the museum and view the site as if you were an alien looking for a nice well-marked landing spot.
At very nearly the center of the Henge is the Red Lion, and an average English Sunday Roast.
We sat next to the locally famous 17th century village well — covered with glass, so you can look down, down, down the 86ft to the bottom — where the dead body of adulterous Florrie was thrown after her murder by her husband. Now her dark ghost occasionally haunts the pub. No one ate at this table. Hm, wonder why?
One of the many pleasing games we played while walking through the stones was shape spotting. We found stones which looked like crowns; diamonds; chairs; and this one we thought looked like it had a heart.
It’s chilly, rainy and grey today — but I’m warmed just looking at these photos again. Batteries: recharged.