Friday 26th January 2007
Distance Walked: 0 miles
Start Time: n/a
End Time: n/a
Elapsed Time: n/a
Weather: Cold, overcast and wet. Like grey milk.
Distance walked so far: 251.2 miles
Distance Walked: 0 miles
Start Time: n/a
End Time: n/a
Elapsed Time: n/a
Weather: Cold, overcast and wet. Like grey milk.
Distance walked so far: 251.2 miles
Religion is man’s greatest folly, and Glastonbury is where the fools gather. This, they say, is where Christianity was first brought to England, by Jesus Christ himself. And, here, the Holy Grail that held His blood is buried beneath a well. Come, drink the water and be healed. And here is where King Arthur and his Queen were buried. There’s such a muddled mix of myths and mantra here that it’s unsurprising that it attracts such a wide range of devotees. Whatever you believe in, there’s something here for you to clutch. The tawdry collection of shops on the otherwise nondescript high street panders to the desperate and the deluded. Here you can be rebalanced, re-aligned and reformed. In recent times Glastonbury is most famous for the overpriced and over-popular music festival, but the colourful freaks that make that event such a unique experience are commonplace here. Even the woman at the Tourist Information Centre is spaced out.
At the centre of the town is the Tor, a huge and apparently natural outcrop that erupts from the surrounding flatness in such an astonishing way that it is impossible not to contemplate the possibility of the supernatural. One thing that has been inescapable on the walk so far is that, no matter how small or unassuming a village may be, it will always have an attractive and undeniably impressive old church at its heart. No wonder religion took such a grip on the people of this country. Who could fail to be impressed by buildings of such grandeur and beauty? Britain consists of decaying churches, rotting statues and monuments to the dead. The past, partly preserved. The steep climb to the top of the Tor leads to a solitary tower, all that remains of the abbey that once stood here. All natural wonders are appropriated by the gods.
I have no time for the divine today. I shun the help on offer and have faith that the path that I’ve chosen will take me where I need to go.
At the centre of the town is the Tor, a huge and apparently natural outcrop that erupts from the surrounding flatness in such an astonishing way that it is impossible not to contemplate the possibility of the supernatural. One thing that has been inescapable on the walk so far is that, no matter how small or unassuming a village may be, it will always have an attractive and undeniably impressive old church at its heart. No wonder religion took such a grip on the people of this country. Who could fail to be impressed by buildings of such grandeur and beauty? Britain consists of decaying churches, rotting statues and monuments to the dead. The past, partly preserved. The steep climb to the top of the Tor leads to a solitary tower, all that remains of the abbey that once stood here. All natural wonders are appropriated by the gods.
I have no time for the divine today. I shun the help on offer and have faith that the path that I’ve chosen will take me where I need to go.
Song of the day:
The Handsome Family
“Weightless Again”
This is why people OD on pills /
And jump off the Golden Gate Bridge /
Anything to feel weightless again
The Handsome Family
“Weightless Again”
This is why people OD on pills /
And jump off the Golden Gate Bridge /
Anything to feel weightless again
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