We were up early, dressed and had a wonderful breakfast at the hotel. The night before, I had made a reservation at Avis to pick up a rental car at 10:00. We were there early and Adrian, the auto mechanic had just finished feeding the two chipmunks that powered our rental, a 2013 Vauxhall. The Vauxhall is a British car, made in Germany and is powered by a 1.2 liter engine with a 5 speed manual transmission. I later found out that Vauxhall was from the Celtic language and loosely translated means, "piece of crap".
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| Me and the POS Vauxhall |
Well Adrian gave me his patented 2 minute training lecture pointing out where the brake pedal was, (as if the car could reach speeds where you would actually need a brake) and how to turn on the radio - you know, important stuff. We had no GPS so we got directions on how to get out of town, "Well Mate, ye goes dwn to the fork and ye beer right and go on past the people standing by the fl'wers and ye goes about a mile or trey till ya pass by a y'low sign an then..."
Well, I strapped in, adjusted my mirrors, said a few prayers to God, Yahweh, Mohammed and any other deity I could think of that might give me an edge. So there I am driving on the wrong side of road, shifting with my left hand, looking to my right for a rear view mirror that is on my left, trying to interpret road signs and squiggly lines on the road that make absolutely no sense and watching Kathy white knuckle it as we wind our way through the English countryside. I also find that as nice as the English people are in person, when they are behind the wheel, they turn into maniacs who give road rage new meaning. According to Adrian, getting out of town and onto the A4 was a short 5 minute drive and sure enough, 20 minutes later, we are heading out on the countryside, past Bath, on to Warminster and Kathy's knuckles were relaxing from white to a nice shade of ecru.
We made it to Stonehenge, had lunch and then went to view the stones that have stood silent sentinels over the land for the past 4500 years. When walking around them, I could almost feel the echo's of men and women long gone calling out, abandoned drums, their beat still pulsating over the eons if you listen closely. It is truly a powerful site to visit, a place where even a large crowd automatically speaks in hushed whispers. I could ramble on for pages but I can only hope the following pictures do more justice to this wonder of wonders.
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| The traditional pose |
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| In all it's glory |
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| How did those ancient people, without any metal tools, move and carve those huge stones.....and why.... |
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| Even more puzzling....they are out in the middle of nowhere. Just farms of sheep and flat land |
We were pretty tired but decided to go on and visit Salisbury, a town about 20 miles past Stonehenge. This was another fine decision on our part. Salisbury is a treasure to behold. A town whose roots begin over a 1000 years ago and has been able to age gracefully. The cobblestone streets wind past buildings that were old when our Republic was brand new. We had a cold brew in a bar that was probably over 600 years old. Everyone was friendly, helpful and added to the experience.
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| Eels anyone?? |
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| Great place to stop for a quaff |
We strolled through the town, a town that was in the constant shadow of the steeple rising from the Salisbury Cathedral. We did not know it at the time but one of the four existing original copies of the Magna Carta resides in the Cathedral. This is a document from 1250, a document that was over 500 years old when the Declaration of Independence was first conceived. The Cathedral itself was a treat for the eyes and ears as the organist was playing a few rifs that could straighten your backbone and allow you to hear Angels singing. The floor is covered in stones marking the last remains of folks that passed on in 1300. Lots of antiquities but again like all the churches we visited in England, it was a working Church, one that still serves the people.
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| Olde City Centre |
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| Too big for one picture |
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| Detail on the cathedral |
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| Gargoyle |
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| Where the priest stands |
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| The cloisters |
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| The Magna Carta |
Walking back to the car, we passed through neighborhoods and scenes that looked like they belonged on postcards. We did stop to reward ourselves with milkshakes for a day well done.
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| A typical English garden |
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| Instead of "Dollar Store" |
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| Sunset over Salisbury |
We then headed back to Bristol with the sun in our eyes. My spirits and energy were flagging so we stop at the Bengal Bear for dinner - Indian cuisine whose main attempt at ambiance revolves around playing traditional Indian music which sounds (at least to me) like someone who got their privates caught in a wringer.
The break worked as I had renewed vim and vigor and was ready to handle that final 20 miles that separated me from my comfy bed and pillow. Well Kat is navigating and all of the sudden, I hear her say, "Oh darn" or something in that genre. We were going the wrong way and had gone about 20 miles out of our way. We turned around and we're cruising back, trying to calm each other, trying to minimize the faux pas and concentrate on the positive when two cops standing beside the road motioned me over to ask me, "Hey mate, you know how fast you were going?" Well, Kat and I put on a Academy Award performance starring in "The Bumbling Lost Tourist". Not only did we talk ourselves out of a ticket, we had the officer give us detailed, concise, understandable directions, (a first in England) on how to get back to Bristol.
We worked our way home, parked in a underground garage and trudged up to our room for sleep, blessed sleep.
