I turned the car down a narrow lane to greet Long Meg and her Daughters. Leaving Kirkoswald church, we had taken the route we have travelled so often towards Penrith. We had driven up and down this road, backwards and forwards, on previous visits, on the reconnaissance trip for the Cumbrian workshop and during the workshop itself. We know this road… every tiny turn-off, every place of interest… we even pointed out a few of them and reminisced. So it had been rather disconcerting to find that the most important sites along it had been screened from consciousness until we were almost upon them and waved, in passing, to the circle known as Little Meg.
Between one fleeting glimpse of the stone circle in its isolated field and the next side-road is a mere matter of seconds to drive… just long enough for a quick ‘should we?’
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