Stonehenge

Finally got to Stonehenge last month. Even though quite a mecca for tourists, I found it an amazing piece of history.

We started our day out by visiting the small community of Avebury. A lovely village in the countryside. We took a stroll down the only street admiring a small local church and the thatched roof homes. I, of course, had to stop in the small eclectic New Age gift shop. The stones are the longest stone circle in the world....over 1400 ft in diameter and covers roughly 28 acres. Some of the stones have their own names...Barber Stone (a skeleton with small belongings was found beneath it dated 14th century), Swindon Stone (the largest, about 60 tons) and Devil's Chair (a popular with those wanting to dabble in the black arts, legends say)...among others. These are not stacked or "dressed". They stand alone, those that are left, after flooding and other natural occurances. It is rather an amazing circle and sometimes not seen for those that only find interest in Stonehenge. Shame. I found it more powerful and magical. Perhaps due to the lower amount of tourists and lack of admission fee. These stones have been cleaned at occasions due to the appearance of graffiti. Kids. Go figure.

Then we were off to Stonehenge. I have longed most of my life to see these stones and they are quite a sight I will agree. They can be seen somewhat from the road...if you can see beyond the fence and clusters of amateur and semi-pro photographers. The fee, a measley 7 pounds (about $11.50) to see something that is admired and a vision of awe around the world. The area is fenced and roped. By my ears, the majority of the tourists Eastern European or North American (Canadian or American...never assume...the Canadians hate that)....a few Asians thrown in for good measure with the even more occasional Brit. One can never get close to the stones, and must be content with getting "close enough" and "enjoying" the audible tour guide you wear strapped around your neck. The stones are not as massive as I had envisioned, but incredible in any case. We were lucky enough to be there as the sun was lowering in the sky. It is quite a site indeed. I was impressed and glad to have made the trip.

The drive away and into Salisbury was through winding countryside with the sun setting. Glorious. Matt knows that I have an overwhelming urge to visit cathedrals all over the country. The night was unreasonably cold...even for a Yooper such as myself. The cathedral (although one side almost entirely covered with scaffolding) was a sight to behold. Lit up and brilliant in the night sky. The inside was peaceful and uncrowded (hallelujah). We were just in time for Evensong and politely directed to sit for the service and not be wandering about. We chose to sit under the unreachable ceiling and not with the choir as we could have (the inner chapel's seating area has one on each side of the wall facing each other...not the standard all-facing- front style...reminds me of Parliament actually). The choir and ministers walked in procession style and stood around a very large, realistic display of Christ's manger. I don't know if any of you have been fortunate enough to visit a cathedral during mass or Evensong...it is worth even staying for a moment or two. The environment, accoustics and singing can move one to tears. Even one of no religious affiliation or belief such as myself. It is an amazing experience.

I am thankful for days like these...they make me realize where I am and what is really important in life. Moments.

Time to rest...

I recently had the honor of attending the funeral of our dear old neighbor Jess. Jess was in his late 70s, a right ornery old cuss with family, loved by most others in the community. A true "Black Country chap". It was not my first funeral in England, but was the most traditional in most respects. Not as traditional as some have been, and still are...no horse drawn hearse...but more traditional than I know. Yet, I was not family. Nonetheless, I felt it was a calming experience for all in attendance. Many of you may have attended such occasions, but for all of my years, I had not.

A large hearse arrived on our street, full of windows and the casket in full view. All the attendees stood along the street to watch it pull up in front of the family home. A young woman emerged in a smart black suitdress complete with cane, hair pulled into a ponytail with a top hat on. She approached the door, removing her hat, knocked on the door and escorted Jess' wife June to a limosine behind the hearse.The male staff then removed what seemed like 20 or better bunches of flowers that were placed on the casket or tied down to the top of the car upon a rack. A few were the letters...Dad...Uncle and others. The immediate family rides in the limo and others follow in cars. The procession went a mile or two down a busy street midweek.
The graveyard had a small hall that seated very few...many of us stood...not a problem. Cat Stevens "Father and Son" piped in outside and in as we entered. Who knew he was a fan? The minister was a young man (40 tops) with spiked hair and piercings. He oversees the "church" near our home. He and his wife have a youth group for teens several nights a week...this country needs more like him. He stated a few words, those from family and his own, then a prayer. Short and appropriate. "How Can I Tell You", another Cat Stevens song playing as we exited the building.

We went to the grave and he was laid to rest. A very lovely tribute to a life. Even the gathering after was very understated and pleasant. Rest easy Jess.

Lately, I have noticed that motorcycle funerals are quite popular here. The English love their motorcycles as much, if not more than Americans. I am sure that they have been done many times over in the states, but I had never seen a bike procession or least of all a bike hearse before. Fitting for those who spend most or all of their time on 2 wheels rather than 4.