The magnetic pole


Went for a stroll, from Marlborough to Avebury last week.  A kind of Indian summer day; misty, and the freshly-shorn landscape looked as strokable as cat’s fur.

Marlborough is the kind of place where you get off the bus and from the first three shops* you see, you know you’re unlikely to ever be able to afford to rent a flat there.

I spent the usual half hour wandering in circles before I found what I thought was the starting point of the Wessex Ridgeway trail, then just gave up and followed this middle-aged couple who had fleeces and walking sticks and everything, and were therefore probably more likely on the right track, or a track of some sort, than I was. Discovered that having a proper hiking stick means other hikers take you seriously and will automatically offer advice on directions etc.  Especially as to the nearness of the next country pub 😉 .  Plus a four foot metal pole with a sharp-bit-on-the-end is something of a comfort and reassurance to a woman hiking alone.

Haven’t been to Avebury in 20 years, but the stone circle is as impressive as ever, and the Red Lion is still a good boozer.  Even though the vegetarian menu option had run out (“It’s all those people ‘in tune with the Earth'” commented the barman, sourly).  I had an orange J20 and a coffee instead.  Pottered round the circle. Noted that the advertised bus back to Swindon failed to show up for 2 hours running and caught one back to Marlborough instead, as my feet were feeling a little battered.  Watched a man, dressed in black, doing tai chi between 3 burial mounds (!).

Pictures below the cut….

*”boutiques” darling, boutiques. IMG_0696 IMG_0698 IMG_0699 IMG_0701 IMG_0706 IMG_0710 IMG_0711 IMG_0720 IMG_0724 IMG_0725 IMG_0727


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