Dear Wen…
Why that particular text for a trip to the hospital was all I was really wondering…?
The old Chestnut, with a twist, of files baked into Bakewell Tarts is possibly not the way to go…
But the ‘…Stane’ will doubtless remain, at least for the time being, an interesting phrase which one is tempted into making the Time Being… can one ever really be anything else…?
The recovery of Ulster’s Epic, ‘Cattle Spoil…’ is accredited to the ‘Ghaist Stane’ of Fergus Mac Roigh, but it isn’t at all obvious in the story as it has come down. For a start the stone is described as his grave stone which makes it sound like it stands in a Church graveyard when in fact, as we now know, it is more or less bound to stand in an open field or moorland…
Not unlike the two ‘Stanes’ we came across over the weekend.
And make no mistake we did ‘come across’ them did we not?
Or rather, you did, initially… and we only named the one of them.
Strange, the feeling on that side of the brook although not at the falls…
Re-gaining the High Way proved to be something of a blessed relief which is probably a very old feeling.
There is something very deep here to do with stones and bones which were evidently synonymous in the ancient mind-set or at least analogous…
Not unlike blood and sap in fact…
I still cannot shake the image of the Noble Warrior tying himself to a standing stone to do battle…It is certainly not what might have been expected for such a scenario…
The thought of a Black Tongue Lolling Rug cannot be expected to lift me very far from my reveries on ‘Sunday at Dead-Shaw Sick…’
Still, as it is Wimbledon Season, Luminous Balls of Power should be ten a penny…
There are two obsessions in the heart of man vying for precedence. Which one wins? Why, whichever one feeds.
Love
Don x
