Today I accompanied Dawn on one of her archaeological visits. Since returning to her PhD studies, she’s been visiting neolithic monuments. She writes her visits up on her blog, Past Rambles. You can read her post here. Because her write up is so detailed, I’m not going to rewrite everything she’s already said.
The site was called Combe Gibbet. Strangely, it features a gibbet installed on the top of a long barrow. The gibbet, a double, is 25 feet high (not 25 metres as Dawn claimed) and has been replaced seven times. These replacements are because of various things happening to them. Burning, chopping down, stolen, struck by lightning…the usual things that happen to gibbets on long barrows.
The barrow is on the top of a wonderful hill with long, beautiful views of the English countryside. The only life to be seen (ignoring the other couple who visited before us and just sat in their car until we left) was a herd of fluffy, white sheep.
I have to say that if I was unfortunate enough to be hanged, I’d pick this spot. The view would be the last thing I saw and it would be some slight consolation.
We had a jolly good wander around, snapping photos and making frequent archaeological remarks before heading back to the car. Dawn always visits a pub after her visits so, how could I possibly argue.
Our first attempt ended in failure. The Rose and Garter is inextricably linked to Combe Gibbet but it’s been closed for a while. We asked a helpful local for the next nearest pub and he sent us down the road to The Swan Inn.
Lunch, beer then coffee was taken in this lovely, country pub, where the beef wanders aimlessly in the field across the road before being butchered and turned into pies. Now that’s what I call minimal food transportation…when the cows can walk.
While we sat and savoured the delights of organic and neighbouring cow, a horrendous hail storm raged outside. As we continued to sit, we overheard an old regular discussing the Rose and Garter. It’s hoped that it will be open again in August but, according to him, they haven’t even put in their application for planning permission yet.
Eventually, we drove back to Farnham where the builders didn’t come today and the poodles had managed to escape…again! They are very sneaky. The poodles, not the builders.
Carmen was limping. This has nothing to do with the escape but is because her sister can be a right pain when given pig ribs. Day-z, who has never been overly fond of food, has a thing for bones. She believes all bones in the world are her’s. She often fights Carmen over bone possession rights. And these days, poor Carmen loses. She invariably winds up limping and get lots of sympathy while Day-z gets the bones.
I almost forgot. Last week, when Dawn and I went to the Maltings to see the folk band, she asked me if I knew how to tie a noose. Surprised by this query, I said that I could. I have no idea how I know but I do. Dawn then asked me to bring a noose with me today.
I thought she was serious. Apparently she wasn’t.
I turned up with a delightfully tied noose…and she hanged me with it.