Tour de Tor

Theoretically it should have been a short mental hop from Charles Freeman talking about the soft edges of iron age Christianity to Barbara Erskine talking to Phil Rickman about Himself dropping in on Glastonbury for (as Phil put it) a gap year with the Druids. Normally I am the sort of Mid Wales cove who has a natural affinity with spirits of place and the sense of continuous history. Myth of all sorts, whether codified into religion, stylised into caligraphic expressions or iconography, is the thread that makes us able to link to the past without drifting into ancestor worship. There was a chill in the room as the two novellists elided through the centuries and conjured ghosts. Glastonbury, neither land nor water, energy lines about the tor; somehow I found myself becoming nostalgic for the more solid ground of real history and the spade work of archaeology.