The Prayer Tree of Wiltshire
London was amaaaaazing.
The British SF writer Roz Clarke – my Clarion classmate and dear friend – decided to take me off the beaten path and show me the English countryside. Specifically, the ancient tomb of The West Kennett Long Barrow, and the stone circle at Avebury Henge. Both of which are AWESOME and searchable on the internet.
This, not so much:
A tree tied with prayer flags, which sits along the path to the barrow.
I don’t have much info on this, other than it’s a local thing and very much in tune with the pagan groove going on this part of the world.
Roz commented that my appearance in her London world was like I’d stepped through a mirror. It definitely had that magic-portal quality considering how much my image has been formed by brutally funny TV shows, and it felt like spending nine days on the other side of the screen.
So going here was pretty amazing, setting foot in a place of deep resonance – one that happens to be on the other side of the planet.
Unexpected and delightful, the surprise of finding yet another powerful dreamscape to run off to when life is being too much.
Seriously, Roz, thank you for the utter gift of sharing this little bit of real-world enchantment with me.
The raggedy, mistrustful, Bella-like sheep deserve a special mention. LOVE THEM.
Other fun moments:
Chatting with members of Annie Lennox’s band on the flight over.
Cornish pasties.
The utter Black Sabbath magnificence of Highgate Cemetery that had me running to a bench and immediately starting to outline my next novel.
The retail dance party of Camden Market.
The Hobgoblin drawing pentagrams in Guinness foam.
Grave/Misery Index/Arsis/The Last Felony/The Rotted at Underworld and how compliant British moshpits are when told to start a circle.
The National Gallery.
The absolutely breathtaking cast court collection at the V&A.
Driving past Stonehenge with a contemplative, reverential scream of “OMG, THERE IT IS!!!!”
Sin City at the Electric Ballroom, copious amounts of air guitar (and three Metalocalypse lookalikes kneeling at my feet, banging their heads and lip-synching “For Those About To Rock, We Salute You.”)
Dreadfalls and elevator soles in full 90’s effect at the labyrinthine Slimelight, and stupid amounts of fun dancing along to an aggro-synthpop act whose entire lyrical output was profanity.
Vegan bangers.
(Yeah, my idea of a vacation is pretty much art museums and metal bars.)
