Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

After that day yesterday, I would’ve be surprised indeed if I’d been able to reproduce that level of energy. Instead, both Oxy and I slept in like logs, while our friend’s boy went off to his first day of term. The lad really seems to like the English public school system—he even insisted on keeping his school outfit on after he came back home this evening. He’s a rather cute child, and very precocious, exactly the sort of eleven year old boy who doesn’t get on in the American public schools (same word, different meaning). I’ve read enough literature to know the English public system doesn’t have its share of nastiness, but they don’t seem to disapprove of intelligence quite as much. And even after allowing for a certain level of youthful boastfulness, he is holding his own on the rugby field. I think boys regard that sort of thing as important.

Well, anyway, after enough tea in us, we were ready to tour a bit more. First stop was the hike up Glastonbury Tor, the singular feature of the region.



Supposedly a thousand odd years ago, the plains about here were flooded and it was an island—the inspiration for Avalon if the tourist brochures are to be believed. Avalon or no, it is very impressive and towers over the surrounding landscape. The “tower” at the top is the remains of an abbey which suffered under Henry the VIII, in particular the abbot who found himself hung from the self-same tower.





It is truly a place that you can sense the history of. Some claim that it’s a source of great magical power, and the town below certainly has enough shops that are trying to cater to that sort of New Age thing—crystals, incense, occult books and all. I suppose I’m rather a skeptic when it comes to stuff like that, but I have to admit up there in the breeze, looking at the land around from the vantage of a tower a few hundred years old, it’s hard not to believe in magic.





For all the New Age twee, Glastonbury proper proved a fun town, with some properly old buildings in it.



The shopping proved less than successful, though. For one, I wasn’t that interested in occultish self-help books--



For another, despite all my Gaian "shopping" experience, I am still pathetic when it comes to picking out clothes. The prices here were much more in line with what I think clothes ought to be, but they suffered from being, well frankly, English. I guess my problem is I have Parisian tastes on a Glastonbury budget. While I was trying stuff on in the Oxfam, I kept thinking back to that 160 Euro jacket I had looked at a few days back (while Oxy did that “Well, if you really like it….” bit).

No poorer for the day’s mercantile excursion, we retired to the obligatory pub for the obligatory fish and chips, followed by a game of skittles. The mural in the skittle hall depicted the Tor and the surrounds mixed with painting of elves, hobbits and a Gollum clearly based on the recent movie. But the food was good, the company fun, and our team (Oxy and I) didn’t do too badly. It was authentic enough, and if the locals like Tolkien and a bit of magic, well, so do I.

No elf-maid, but happy to play skittles with one should I meet her,

V.