Sunday, 22nd May

Breakfast at Teuchter Towers did not include porridge, but it did include some delicious whole grain toast topped with Mr T's wonderful homemade blackcurrant jam. Mr T left shortly after breakfast for Heathrow, where he was picking up their younger daughter who had just graduated from law school in Scotland and was bound for Mt Kilimanjaro and points beyond on holiday.

On the schedule for that day was the much anticipated and talked about trip to Stonehenge and Avebury with Ben, Z and Mr and Mrs Dreadful. We would meet them at Stonehenge, walk around the circle of stones, have a picnic lunch, then drive to Avebury. So, Teuchter and I set off for Waitrose to buy supplies of the picnic. I also needed shampoo, batteries for my camera and a cash machine.

You know all of those guide books for travellers? The ones I bought failed to mention that the key pads for the ATM machines in England are in a different place than the ones in the US. And they have a screen that looks like a touch screen but isn't. You can poke it all day and it will just smirk at you. Granted, I'm not the most technologically savvy person on the planet, but it was pretty embarrassing to have to ask how to use the silly thing.

Teuchter was rapidly moving out of earshot, so I had to shout. 'Come back! I'm too stupid to use this machine!' A very well turned-out couple approached.
'American, eh!' the man bellowed. 'Cash machines are different in America.'

'Yes, well, it has my debit card and I'm pressing the touch screen but nothing happens.'
'Course it isn't! That's because it isn't a touch screen.'

I looked at the place where the key pad should be and saw nothing.
'What does it use, then?' I asked the man. 'Telepathy?' Teuchter arrived to rescue me.
'She can't use the cash machine!' the man helpfully informed the entire store.

At this point I was remembering all the stories I'd heard about American tourists, none of which are particularly flattering. We are either classified as rude, arrogant and demanding, or completely clueless. It appeared that I was living up to our reputation in the latter category. Teuchter calmly pointed out the location of the key pad. There it was. In plain sight. On the bottom of the ATM machine. I felt like an idiot. The man was beaming. At least I was providing entertainment for the natives. His wife, who remained silent until I completed my transaction, patted me on the arm and said,
'Don't feel so bad. The same thing happened to him in Chicago.'

Picnic supplies in hand, we returned to Teuchter Towers and packed enough lunch for everyone. I was having camera problems and thought the new batteries would take care of the situation. I was to later learn than the problem was with the camera itself. We loaded the car and set off for the Salisbury Plain.

Did I mention that weeks earlier Ben had suggested, wanting my first trip to the land of my forefathers to be memorable, that we should tour Stonehenge in fancy dress? 'That would be fabulous,' says I, thinking she was kidding. Ben doesn't kid about things like that. I didn't want to take up luggage space with an actual costume, but I didn't want to let down the side, either. After careful consideration, and in light of the history of the site, I decided to use a sun theme. I wore my denim dress with the sunflowers embroidered on the hem, my yellow sandals, a yellow cardigan, and a necklace and earrings symbolizing the sun god. Teuchter dressed as a hippie, complete with tie-dyed shirt.

It was a beautiful clear day for most of the trip to Stonehenge. It was a lovely drive through the countryside. There were acres and acres of rapeseed² in full bloom. That isn't a crop grown in my area, so I enjoyed seeing it. The sky darkened and the rain began as soon as we entered the car park. So much for the sun god.

Ben and Z were driving down from Cheltenham with a stop in Swindon to pick up the Dreadfuls. We arrived at the site first. By the time Ben's car appeared, there was a cold, steady rain. The place was extremely crowded anyway. When you travel a long way to see a monument like Stonehenge, you're going to see it, rain or not.

I was eager to see their costumes. Mr And Mrs Dreadful are experienced LARPers³ and are used to spending weekends in costume. Mr D had promised to appear as a manky pirate. I wasn't sure how a manky pirate would differ from a regular pirate. It apparently has to do with blood and scars and general grunge. Mr D was manky indeed. His costume was excellent. Mrs D was to come as a witch finder, but had costume problems at the last minute and so came in jeans and sweater.

Z was dressed as a wizard in a red robe trimmed in blue and dotted with stars. He wore a matching wizards hat. Ben described him as Ponder Stibbons dressed as Harry Potter. Ben wore a flapper dress and headband from the 1920's that had belonged to her aunt. We were an interesting group, indeed.

I wasn't sure how we would be received by the other tourists. Some people are very into the sacred nature of the stones. When we purchased out tickets, the attendant asked if we were a pagan group. Ben said no, that we were internet friends. But apart from that, no one said a word to us. Back home people would have been asking us for photos and warning their children against us. Later on, Z purchased a postcard in the gift shop and the clerk said, 'That'll be 35 pence, sir' without batting an eye. The English are so polite. Nutters are taken as a matter of course.

The car park, admissions gate and gift shop are on one side of the highway and the stones on the other. They are connected by a tunnel underneath the highway. At least temporarily. Plans are under way to return the site to a grassland setting, minus the highway, with new access. A new car park and visitor center will be built approximately 2 miles away from the monument. A train will transport visitors to within walking distance of the stones.

The stones are impressive, no doubt about it. That's why Stonehenge is one of the most famous and well photographed prehistoric monuments in the world. And it's importance to historians of the British Isles is unequalled. But to be honest I was a bit disappointed. I'm sure this was a result of seeing the stones on film and in pictures so often and building up unrealistic expectations. The site is smaller than I expected and the public isn't allowed to walk up to the stones. This makes it difficult to see them properly, especially in the rain.

We went around the circle using our recorded guides then made our way back through the tunnel to the gift shop. I bought a cheap, throw away rain coat which I later lost at Avebury, a bar of National Trust chocolate, a large poster for the children's library and the obligatory post cards and souvenir guide.

The rain stopped suddenly, so we headed posthaste to the car park where there are a few picnic tables. We had enough food for several days. Ben brought home made soup (carrot and coriander) and mugs. It was wonderful. Perfect for a chilly, rainy day. And there were all sorts of sandwiches, rolls, crisps, salsa, guacamole, fresh veggies, salads and fruit. And for dessert, we had Mrs Dreadful's now world famous rock cakes. We each got about one bite before the rain started again. We sat holding umbrellas, trying to shield the food. Anyone not sure we were nutters from the costumes, would have had no doubts at this point.

My question, considering the millions of tourists to Stonehenge each year and the notorious rainy weather, was why there weren't any covered picnic pavilions? The logical answer is that they don't want people to linger. It is so congested that they would prefer for the unwashed hoards to pay the price of admission, make a quick jog around the stones, then leave.

We finally packed it in and headed for Avebury. The sky cleared again, enabling us to enjoy the drive. We went through some charming small villages with thatched roof cottages and climbing roses framing the doors. It was just so English. And I finally learned what a dingly dell is. I've seen the phrase in poems and children's books and always supposed it was a nonsense phrase. Au contraire. A dingly dell is a tunnel of sorts over a highway created when trees planted on either side grow together at the top. See how educational travel can be.

Avebury, another World Heritage site, is extremely interesting. It is both older and larger than Stonehenge and you can get up and close and personal with the stones – if you don't mind keeping an eye out for sheep poo. It is too large for you to see all of the stones at once. Plus it is an actual village with a pub, which is where we retreated out of the wind and rain.

My first village pub. And what did I drink? Why tea, of course. Because of the the longish drive back to Yately and my propensity for motion sickness, I thought it best not to sample the ale. We spent a very pleasant hour and a half there, nattering away about dozens of subjects, as h2g2 researchers are wont to do when they get together. Mr Dreadful ran into some English Civil War re-enactors and was slightly harassed about his Parliamentary leanings.

We were having a great time but, alas, all things must come to an end. Ben and the Dreadfuls headed north to Swindon and Cheltenham, while Z, Teuchter and I turned east toward Yately and Teuchter Towers. Mr T and J, their Number 2 daughter were making dinner when we arrived. They were barbecuing and it smelled wonderful. We had Z's famous pink potato salad left over from the picnic and J had made several delicious vegetable dishes for Z, who is a vegetarian. The following day was going to be a busy one. Z and I were going to meet Agapanthus in London and spend the day sightseeing before going on north to Birmingham.

Avebury - Teuchter, Z, Ben, Mrs Dreadful, Mr Dreadful

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