On our return home, Cornwall gave us one parting gift by treating us to one of its famous traffic jams.
A nice 40 minutes added onto our journey time. Thankfully, I wasn’t driving.
It takes about 6 hours to drive from Redruth to my home in Cheshire, but still, Andy and Brendan wanted to add more miles to their journeys. They decided to take a detour to the world famous Glastonbury. In my ignorance, I only knew it as that place that does that music festival, but it’s much more than that. Like Tintagel it is steeped in Arthurian legend – probably more so. It was a lovely day so I was down for a trip to Somerset.
Fed up of paying for parking, we left the cars at the local Morrison’s and walked to Glastonbury Abbey.
Admission to the Abbey’s 36 acres will cost you £11 – or £9.90 if you’re over 60 or have a student card.
The first building you come across is St Patrick’s Chapel.
Built in 1512, it’s practically modern architecture – and we came here for ancient ruins!
Next up it’s the Lady Chapel, which also features the crypt chapel of St Joseph of Arimathea.
According to legend, Joseph of Arimathea travelled to Britain, bringing with him the Holy Grail. He secretly buried it just below Glastonbury Tor at the entrance to the Underworld, which prompted King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table to search for it.
There was also a myth that Christ accompanied Joseph to Glastonbury, which prompted William Blake to write his famous poem “And did those feet in ancient time”. In 1916, Sir Hubert Parry used the poem’s lyrics to create the hymn “Jerusalem”, which further implies the legend that once upon a time, Jesus did “walk upon England’s mountains green.”
Oooo I feel all patriotic now.
Next, we headed to The Great Church.
Only these three baulks of stone remain. Like most monasteries, it fell victim to King Henry VIII’s Dissolution of the Monasteries in the 16th Century. The last abbot, Richard Whiting was hanged, drawn and quartered as a traitor on Glastonbury Tor in 1539.
There are lines and signs on the ground that mark where the rest of the Church stood. Including…
King Arthur’s Tomb.
The sign reads:
“In the year 1191 the bodies of King Arthur and his queen were said to have been found on the south side of the Lady Chapel…”
“On 19th April 1278 their remains were removed in the presence of King Edward I and Queen Eleanor to a black marble tomb on this site. This tomb survived until the Dissolution of the Abbey in 1539.”
We paid our respects.
The hulking mass of Glastonbury Tor looms over the Abbey grounds. We would be visiting there later…
For now, we took a stroll through the orchard…
And arrived at The Abbot’s Kitchen.
Built in the 14th Century, it is one of very few surviving medieval kitchens in the world. On display were some pots…
…a selection of medieval food such as wilted cabbage and plastic bread…
…and some rather lifelike photographs of actors in period costume.
So much history! You could almost say it was worth the £11 fee to get in.
We completed our circle and left, all knowledged up.
We took a walk through the centre of Glastonbury and I was struck by the vibe of the place. It’s just a Mecca for those of an arty/alternative/hippy persuasion.
Colourful buildings, spiritual shops and free vibes.
And a pretty church.
We headed back to Morrison’s to avoid a parking fine. It was time for Joel and Andy to hit the road so we hugged them farewell.
As they hit the road, Brendan, Taras and I drove around to climb Glastonbury Tor.
The Tor is visible for miles around, sitting in the middle of reclaimed wetland known as the Summerland Meadows – part of the Somerset Levels. Before the land was drained, the ancient Celtic Britons called the hill the Yyns yr Afalon – the Isle of Avalon. Medieval writers believed it to be the Avalon of legend, where King Arthur’s sword Excalibur was forged, and where the king was later brought after being gravely wounded in his final Battle of Camlann.
Our hike to the top took us through a field of cows and calves.
Brendan was uneasy. He doesn’t trust cows. But this calf was friendly. Or naive?
The Glastonbury Festival may have been cancelled for the past two years, but some people just can’t help pitching a tent here…
From the car to the top of the Tor, the trek only took us twenty minutes or so. We could have parked closer if we had the foresight… The final part was obviously the toughest – the steep climb to the tower.
The Tower of the second St Michael’s Church. The first 11th Century church was made of timber and collapsed during an earthquake in1275. The second church was completed in the 14th Century and survived until the Dissolution of the Monasteries when everything but the tower was demolished. Today, the Tower is maintained by the National Trust.
Btw, can you just make out myself and Taras through the archway? I’ve literally only just noticed myself, myself.
I stopped to take in the scenery.
The wind was still and the air was warm. To the side of the tower, a lady in long flowing dress was rhythmically beating a drum and burning incense. Viiiiiiibesssssssssss.
Someone had left a staff. This is Glastonbury.
I saw an old bloke who was wearing the same coat TOG24 had sent me. I asked him to point out Worthy Farm for me as I was struggling to see space for a massive festival in the surrounding countryside. He informed me that the Glastonbury Festival actually took place a good six miles away in the village of Pilton. Go figure.
After chilling out, maxing, relaxing all cool for a while, we began the descent down the other side of the Tor.
I came across a kissing gate.
#AloneAtTheKissingGate – one for all the singletons. I feel your pain.
And so, once back at the car, began the long drive home. Poor Brendan. It was 5pm and a 288 mile round trip lay ahead of him – from Glastonbury, to Cheshire to drop me off, to Leeds to drop Taras off and to Barnsley to drop himself into a bed.
I tried to keep his and Taras’ mind occupied by playing car games, like guess how many millions this movie made, and guess how many followers this celebrity has, but still, it wasn’t long before we found ourselves in a service station.
At Gordano services just outside Bristol, he bought himself a chai latte with double espresso, and then a vanilla latte with extra shot. His drive from Cornwall would have taken 8 hours to travel 439 miles, without stops, but we’d spent the day stuck in traffic and climbing up Avalon.
Brendan was almost sleepdriving his way up my road when he dropped me off at around 9:30p,. I strongly suggested that they both stayed the night, but he chose to persist, and made it back to Barnsley 30 minutes before midnight. What a shift. Though, on a bright note, Taras and Brendan witnessed the only decent sunset of the entire holiday – on the M62 en route to Leeds.
Meanwhile I was wrapped up snugly in bed with a newfound desire to definitely, definitely grace the streets of Glasto again.
#VidOnTour 