ladyofastolat (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ladyofastolat) wrote2021-11-23 05:17 pm
ladyofastolat) wrote2021-11-23 05:17 pm
Day trip to Stonehenge
On Sunday we decided to have a day trip to Stonehenge. Our departure was somewhat rushed, since Pellinor's alarm malfunctioned (its user failed, something sadly not covered by the guarantee) and - very unusually - I didn't wake up early. "It's 8 o'clock!" I exclaimed in alarm. "We need to leave at 8.30!" Since the start of the pandemic, ferries have been considerably less frequent, so deciding to go for a later ferry wasn't a desirable option, but we made it without too much trauma.
The weather and scenery was lovely, and traffic was very light. After a cup of tea, we headed to the shiny new(ish) visitor centre, where our chief learning point came from watching the sign language version of various videos, trying to work out which signs went with which words. We worked out "druid" and "Stonehenge" - not, admittedly, the most useful two words to have in your repertoire should one need to urgently communicate in signs, but better than nothing.
Then we walked towards the stones, where we immediately realised that it was FREEZING. I guess technically it wasn't that cold, but there was a bitter wind roaring across the plain, and it's been so mild lately that we hadn't dressed for an icy blast. We shivered our way around the stones, paused on a bench to eat our sandwiches with ice-lashed hands, then set out to walk around the surrounding landscape.
Annoyingly, it turned out that I hadn't charged my camera battery, so all I had was my phone. My camera's getting old and clunky, and I'd sometimes wondered if I even needed to replace it, given that phone camera are getting so much better. But my phone - although useful for snapping pictures of people - turned out to be useless in the extreme when it came to photographing stones. Not that it stopped me from trying.
According to the warning sign, visitors to Stonehenge were likely to fall victim to the Musicians of Bremen.
Moderately tolerable if I didn't try to zoom in.
But I like zoom! I zoom in all the time! And the phone didn't want me to! Although I guess it looks rather arty.
Nice shadows. Ritual ones, doubtless.
Even the sheep were Probably Ritual, being spread out in a long line in a swathe of light. Not that my phone wanted me to photograph them. They ARE sheep, honest!
Autumn trees with an enticing path.
Despite dreadful threats from the sky gods, it didn't actually rain. Perhaps it was kept away by the shadowed being that bestrode the narrow world like a colossus.
When we returned to the visitor centre, I charged into the shop to grab a bottle of fruit wine. "Do you want a sample?" a man asked.
Since sampling would have involved removing my mask while standing very near to him, I declined. "I've had them all before," I said, "and I already know what I want to buy."
"Ah, but have you tried the mead?" he countered, not to be thwarted.
"I have," I said. "I've had them all."
"Even the chilli one?" he said, suspiciously. "What do you think of the chilli one?" He said it with the air of someone trying to catch me out in a lie.
"Sounds as if it shouldn't work," I said, "but strangely, it does. The chilli counters the sweetness really well."
"What about the ginger one?" he offered, still refusing to give up on me. "Do you want to try that one? It's new in today!"
I explained that I used to run a bar that provided mead to live roleplayers, and was intimately familiar with all the Lyme Bay meads, and I had a ferry to catch, and REALLY all I wanted to do was grab a quick bottle of plum wine and get out of there.
"What about the tournament mead?" he tried, rather desperately. (I think the whole "live roleplaying" thing had confused him and he was struggling to regain solid ground.)
Meanwhile, loads of overseas tourists had wandered in and were loitering nearby, starry eyed and awed by the magic of Stonehenge, looking like people who had never tried mead before and were just desperate to sample something so exotic and historic.
"Or the heritage mead?"
I walked past him, grabbed my plum wine, and fled.
I suspect that was we drove out of the car park, a distant voice could probably still be heard, saying, "or the garden mead?"
The weather and scenery was lovely, and traffic was very light. After a cup of tea, we headed to the shiny new(ish) visitor centre, where our chief learning point came from watching the sign language version of various videos, trying to work out which signs went with which words. We worked out "druid" and "Stonehenge" - not, admittedly, the most useful two words to have in your repertoire should one need to urgently communicate in signs, but better than nothing.
Then we walked towards the stones, where we immediately realised that it was FREEZING. I guess technically it wasn't that cold, but there was a bitter wind roaring across the plain, and it's been so mild lately that we hadn't dressed for an icy blast. We shivered our way around the stones, paused on a bench to eat our sandwiches with ice-lashed hands, then set out to walk around the surrounding landscape.
Annoyingly, it turned out that I hadn't charged my camera battery, so all I had was my phone. My camera's getting old and clunky, and I'd sometimes wondered if I even needed to replace it, given that phone camera are getting so much better. But my phone - although useful for snapping pictures of people - turned out to be useless in the extreme when it came to photographing stones. Not that it stopped me from trying.
According to the warning sign, visitors to Stonehenge were likely to fall victim to the Musicians of Bremen.
Moderately tolerable if I didn't try to zoom in.
But I like zoom! I zoom in all the time! And the phone didn't want me to! Although I guess it looks rather arty.
Nice shadows. Ritual ones, doubtless.
Even the sheep were Probably Ritual, being spread out in a long line in a swathe of light. Not that my phone wanted me to photograph them. They ARE sheep, honest!
Autumn trees with an enticing path.
Despite dreadful threats from the sky gods, it didn't actually rain. Perhaps it was kept away by the shadowed being that bestrode the narrow world like a colossus.
When we returned to the visitor centre, I charged into the shop to grab a bottle of fruit wine. "Do you want a sample?" a man asked.
Since sampling would have involved removing my mask while standing very near to him, I declined. "I've had them all before," I said, "and I already know what I want to buy."
"Ah, but have you tried the mead?" he countered, not to be thwarted.
"I have," I said. "I've had them all."
"Even the chilli one?" he said, suspiciously. "What do you think of the chilli one?" He said it with the air of someone trying to catch me out in a lie.
"Sounds as if it shouldn't work," I said, "but strangely, it does. The chilli counters the sweetness really well."
"What about the ginger one?" he offered, still refusing to give up on me. "Do you want to try that one? It's new in today!"
I explained that I used to run a bar that provided mead to live roleplayers, and was intimately familiar with all the Lyme Bay meads, and I had a ferry to catch, and REALLY all I wanted to do was grab a quick bottle of plum wine and get out of there.
"What about the tournament mead?" he tried, rather desperately. (I think the whole "live roleplaying" thing had confused him and he was struggling to regain solid ground.)
Meanwhile, loads of overseas tourists had wandered in and were loitering nearby, starry eyed and awed by the magic of Stonehenge, looking like people who had never tried mead before and were just desperate to sample something so exotic and historic.
"Or the heritage mead?"
I walked past him, grabbed my plum wine, and fled.
I suspect that was we drove out of the car park, a distant voice could probably still be heard, saying, "or the garden mead?"