Return to Home

Fire and Stone

Though our sojourn in London has been delightful, our nightly rest was disturbed when the bells were rung violently to alert us to a fire. As we are in the tower, we had to clutch our moneys and treasures to our breasts and flee what we felt sure to be "the crimson wing of the fiery doom which then o'er shadowed us." (As Mr. Mark Twain would say.) After running down the six flights of stairs, we were told that there was no fire and that we could return to our chambers. Tempers were not the best today.

The library's clerks were in a bit of a pother today, and I was unable to obtain the manuscript I have been studying this week. Returning to the room, I found that my traveling companion had nodded off, so I went to another room and wrote my letters for the day. Later we visited the "giant's carol" at Amesbury Plain. Looking at the mysterious stones, I understood why everyone says that the giants made them and that Merlin moved them to their present location. (King Arthur's father is said to be buried there you know.) I myself enjoy historical sites that answer questions I have-- standing at Hastings field one understands more about the battle and why Harold chose to fight. But the standing stones tell no stories. One comes to them with questions and one leaves with questions— despite an amazing amount of speculation as to where and why and who. (Can they not be happy with Merlin and the giants?) A young girl sat in front of one of the stones and sang, "you're going to miss me when I'm gone" while tapping a cup—made a note to myself to tell my niece, Gia. Had excellent cheese and digestive biscuits at the stones, then home to bed.