We took what you might call the long way home from Glastonbury, partly because we had more time than expected, partly to avoid the holiday traffic of the motorways… and partly just because we could. There was a distant hill that a shaft of sunlight had illuminated for us from the site of Dion Fortune’s grave on an early visit last October and we had been waiting for the right time to go there. The day was hot; way too hot for climbing hills, so, with our usual logic, we planned on heading west towards the coast and Brent Knoll.
It was odd driving back that way. I had camped there with the boys once before, back in 1997, before the internet had opened the doors of knowledge and research. We didn’t climb the hills back then, my late partner was already fighting terminal cancer and camping itself was enough…
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