Mystic Frequencies

England's actually just one big treasure hunt. This weekend M-8 and I tinked around Somerset, an area which gave birth to the legends of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Tables, and ofcourse, the home of hippy heartland Glastonbury, and a whole lot more when you look hard enough.

Stourhead Estate
It kind of amazes me how much money these people had back in those days to landscape design this entire area covering 11km2 previously fully owned by the Hoare family, now owned by the National Trust.
Apart from the main house which was of course luxuriously beautiful and more than enough for a family and all their servants, the property is fully equipped with its own hunting area, lake, Temple to Apollo, a water cave next to the lake (with its own nymph, and once upon a time billeted a hermit just to amuse garden-walking guests).

The state even had a ‘pet project’ on the side - a huge tall tower, also a ‘folly’ building with no reason) Alfred Tower (to commemorate the first ever English King) – a classic Rupunzel kind of tower a few miles from the main house. There’s about 200 Steps to the top (thanks to the young wholesome scouts there at the same time who counted for us) and in the panoramic views you can get a glimpse of Glastonbury Tor and a whole lot of stuff like bush walking people. Just no princes in sight…

Glastonbury & Glastonbury Tor
Glastonbury is a cute little town, but it’s become over the years a little bit more faux-bo than genuinely hippy. Its quaint I suppose, with the main street floating along with a relaxed atmosphere and randomly painted old buildings, but it’s a little overrun by shops that try to sell crystal balls made in China and woven wall hangings with American Indian chief against a fading rainbows that are just plain scary. We had a quick meal in the overgrown garden of an endearing little vego café, which M-8 overheard a conversation about how one of the ladies in the next table has recently acquired a flatmate in the form of ‘an Australian Goddess’ – “but she’s a bit ‘out-there’ and unpredictable, I don’t know how to handle her”.



We headed up to Glastonbury Tor, the huge hill towering over the town. Back in the days where the low lands used to be flooded, it was an island. The 10th century tower of St Michael sits at the summit (some claimed that King Arthur and Guinevere was once buried here) and it’s a windy climb up to the top through random little gems like a Tibetan meditation house and traces of spiritual practices we would never ever know about - could this be the remains of the Glastonbury Thorn that I am Tai-Chi-ing to?

Cheddar Gorge
On Sunday, with the reward of visiting the cheese house and a pub meal in mind, we tackled Cheddar Gorge, which is the largest gorge in the UK. I consider myself pretty fit for my age, though trying to keep up with M-8 who does half marathons and triathlons is a slight challenge. The rock formations and the way it lines the cliffs changes from each different angle and height we reach, and the scenery changes from deep green bushes to open grasslands to hilltop views of Somerset and its water reservoirs. Believe me – IT IS BEAUTIFUL OUT THERE. Having to swarm through the tubes and tiny streets of London from Mondays to Fridays, sometimes the sheer amount of green space and natural heritage England has within the stone throw of big cities really amazes me.

And this is the famous Cheddar Cat

Gold Hill in Shaftsbury
We passed by Shaftsbury on the way back to Salisbury and checked out the gorgeous and well-aged sloping street of Gold Hill over a cup of coffee in the prime seat of the café over looking the slope. We had a lovely chat with a WWII paratrooper (who is ’92 and never been kissed’) and his eccentric family & their old dog.


Old Wardour Castle
The weekend wrapped up nicely with a sunset visit to the hauntingly beautiful Old Wardour Castle (as featured in Robin Hood Prince of Thieves). This is probably my favourite castle in England so far because the setting is really quite tranquil and delicate like a landscaped Edwardian estate, rather than in a bleak and rustic atmosphere that reminds one of warlords and marching horses, yet it retains a medieval appeal with the its strong entrance towers, giant windows and spiral stairs. It has a wonderful festive feel in the sunset against its open lawns, which does somewhat take you back into the days when women pranced around with veils draped on horns on their heads and a heavy chastity belt around their poor little pelvises. Only if I could convince M-8 into wearing tights!!!