We’ve been lucky with the weather the last two weeks. We have had the odd shower but it has been mostly dry and warm. As we headed into the outskirts of Glastonbury the following morning the rain started. It was a steady light rain that signalled its intention to go nowhere fast.
We parked at one end of the High Street and walked down towards the market and Abbey ruins. A homeless man, dressed in purple, green and orange was sitting on the bench outside the church.
Two girls of about seven or eight were standing in the rain handing out leaflets to ‘Hempfest – Celebrating the Magic and Potential of Hemp.’
Walking down the hill we could have shopped at ‘Happy Glastonbury’ for rainbow makers, or maybe ‘Lady of the Silver Wheel’ for sacred symbols. ‘Crystals’ had half price mystical pendants or we could have gone into ‘The Library of Avalon’ for a spot of esoteric learning. Further up the road, we could have picked up some of The Best Quality CBD from the ‘Chocolate Love Temple.’
Unfortunately it was only ten-thirty in the morning and new agers are not early risers so the shops were all closed. One of them gave their opening time as GMT (Glastonbury Maybe Time).
Had we been staying a bit longer we could have taken a course reclaiming the ancient myths of the Gnostic Goddess for healing, guidance and devotion. Possible with a quick trip to meet Merlin and the Angels of Awakening. Madam could, I’m sure, have made time for a class of Women’s Womb Wisdom and unlocked the boundless creativity within her womb. Maybe next time.
One website informed me that several Ley lines cross through Glastonbury and if you stand in the right place you will get a ‘balanced energy message from the earth’ due to the higher frequency of energy.
Luckily I was wearing my tinfoil hat so I was completely unaffected.
The Abbey ruins wanted £7.50 each to go in and look at some old walls in the rain, so I just stretched my arm over the spiked gate and took a picture. It seemed to be deserted.
We trudged back up the hill towards the car and debated catching the bus to Glastonbury Tor. A steady rain was falling and the temperature had dropped several degrees overnight so we decided it would be a lot drier and warmer in Wells.
Why oh why cannot those in charge of car parks list their postcode as a street somewhere in the vicinity of the entrance, rather than the street behind or some random road half a mile away? We entered the postcode of the long stay car park and it led us down a residential cul-de-sac. We attempted it from another direction with the same result. In the end, we just gave up and drove at random looking for a large blue “P’ sign. We eventually found a Waitrose car park where we were allowed to park for £5.40.
Our first stop in Wells, right after extending our mortgage to pay for parking, was the Bishops Palace. We purchased our tickets for £16 a little after noon and were told that the palace was closed from 1pm onwards for a wedding but we were welcome to explore the cafe and gift shop after this time. I was going to hone my sarcasm skills and tell her that my favourite hobby was exploring cafes but Madam was already heading to the palace entrance.
There turned out to be only half a dozen rooms, many of them being prepared for the private wedding, so thirty minutes was more than we needed.
I took a few pictures of the palace and adjoining chapel but neither were of any great interest.
It was still raining but we ventured into the fourteen acres of gardens which were well designed and lovely, even in the rain. Statues were scattered about and the palace walls and building made a fabulous backdrop. It was (almost) worth £16.
We crossed to road to Wells cathedral, had lunch in their cafe and joined a tour group in the cathedral. It was probably informative, inspirational and all round awe inspiring. Probably. Unfortunately the guide was mumbling and turning her back on the group and we heard very little.
The tour was hijacked half way round by a prayer group so we made our escape and had a look round at some bits we missed yesterday.
A narrow spiral stone staircase led up to a library containing books from the 18th century, some of them chained to the bookshelves. I found these fascinating, just looking at the spines of the books on the shelves and their chains. How I wanted to jump over the low gate and open a few books but of course I didn’t. Madam would have been cross.
In spite of its quirks and minor maintenance issues we became quite attached to our little chalet. We weren’t disturbed. It had everything we needed for a few nights. An equipped kitchen. Electric heaters and hot water. Separate rooms so Madam could knit or watch television and I could read or write.
But it was time to head back. A four hour drive, all on main roads and motorways. It rained intermittently and we were glad when we reached home.
I opened the front door and we carried in the suitcases.
“Hello Alexa, we’re home” called Madam.
“Welcome home. I hope you are having a good day.”
And we were. And we had had a very good two weeks indeed.
We had climbed the equivalent of 410 flights of stairs, walked a total of 63 miles and driven 885 miles. I realise that this is the normal distance that Americans will drive for a decent burrito but it was a long way on English roads.
It was time for a sit down and a cup of tea. Maybe listen to some music.
“Alexa, play surf sessions from Spotify.” said Madam
“Playing acoustic music from Spotify”
“Alexa! Stop!”
“Alexa play SURF… SESSIONS… from Spotify.”
“Playing songs by the Smurfs from Spotify.”
“Alexa! Stop!”
“Alexa! PLAY… Oh never mind.”
Madam sighed and said “I think I’ll go and unpack.”
She stopped by the door and turned to look at me. “where are we going next?”
That’s a good question I thought.
Travels With Madam 