Down By Avalon (Part 1, Enlightenment)

As my reward for doing Dry January, I thought I would treat myself to a couple of days away in my favourite small town in Somerset. Although Glastonbury is only 30 miles away it is quite awkward to get to if you don’t have your own transport. Luckily for me the B & B landlady Michelle kindly offered to meet me at Castle Cary railway station and drive me to Glastonbury. It was nice to see her again, and stay at her cosy little B & B. The weather forecast wasn’t great for the next few days, so I was keen to see as much as possible before the rain arrived.

As soon as I had unpacked my stuff, I headed out again to explore the town and revisit my favourite places. My first port of call was The Chalice Well and gardens. I was pleased to see that some flowers were already blooming in early February. The well is also known as the Red Spring because of the high iron content of the water which leaves a red deposit on everything it touches. I drank a few sips of the water at the Lion’s Head drinking fountain because it is said to have healing properties.

There is a meditation space at the Chalice Well called ‘The Upper Room’ which is exclusively for silent contemplation. The lyrics of Van Morrison’s song Avalon Of The Heart came into my head, ‘In the upper room. There the cup does stand, In the upper room, Down by Avalon’. Van’s songs often enter my consciousness in Glastonbury, and he is well acquainted with the myths and magic of this area. Legend has it that Joseph of Arimathea buried or washed the cup from the Last Supper here. At 3pm a bell was rung for the Silent Minute which was established during the Second World War and observed here for decades.

Time was moving on; it would be dark in two hours, and I wanted to climb the Tor. I began the ascent just around the corner from the Chalice Well, before you get to the White Spring. There were dozens of pregnant sheep grazing on the hillside, which reminded me that it will soon be lambing time, always a great time of year. I always think it is quite a biblical pastoral scene which reminds me of that great visionary William Blake. I stopped every few yards to observe the view over the Somerset countryside. 

Even late on a February afternoon there were quite a few other people going up or down the ancient pathway. Finally, I reached St Michael’s Tower at the summit. Surveying the Somerset levels below you could see a mist arising in the distance. The Tor can be seen from miles around above this mist. It is a phenomenon known as Fata Morgana which takes its name from Morgana Le Fey a sorceress in Arthurian legend. The tower is roofless, so sitting on a bench inside and looking up you get a free artwork of nature, namely the heavens above. As I gazed upwards I thought I saw a tiny angel descend, but sadly it was only a pigeon coming home to roost. 😊

After half an hour or so of mindful contemplation I thought I better be heading back down to the town below. I had some food at the Market Tavern and called in at The George & Pilgrim for a glass of wine as other pilgrims have done for hundreds of years. Back at the B & B I thought I’d have an hour’s nap before the evening, but when I woke up, I couldn’t be bothered going out again, especially as it had begun to rain. I slept soundly until 6.00 the next morning, little realising what a great day lay ahead. (To be Continued) 

The George & Pilgrim.