Stones, Salisbury and Stapels or Curiosities, a Cathedral and Clive

After the brown spots of the last post I think it important that I recount some of the more positive points of the weekend. Yesterday I decided to hop a train (several trains actually - we had a lot of changes) for Salisbury. From there I made the somewhat overrated pilgrimmage to Stonehenge. The 7.50 pound bus ride and 4.70 pound admission was a bit steep, but I did get a free audio tour. I ought to have counted the number of times that I heard the phrases "we're not sure" and "we don't know" in reference to this mystical place. The fact that so many hundreds of thousands of people have come to Stonehenge, not knowing what it is, not knowing why they come, but just coming, is rather remarkable. The site itself is situated in the middle of vast rolling hills and countryside. It was windy and a bit chilly, adding to the queer feeling that the monoliths bring about. There was an uncanny ceremony involved in my circling the site. My favorite story (couresty of my audiotour) is suggests that the stones came from Ireland, where they were once the property of giants. Following the conquering of the Anglo-Saxons Uther Pendragon was told by the wizard Merlin to have 15,000 men go to Ireland and bring the stones of the giants back to England. Apparently the men didn't move quickly enough for the wizard's taste, so he used his magic to transport the stones to their present location. It is here that the body of Uther is buried. I'll buy it. Makes my visit that much better.

I headed back to Salisbury to see the cathedral, which boasts the longest spire of any cathedral in the UK and the largest cloister in England. Unfortunately it also boasts a remarkably large admission fee of over 4 pounds. I opted to see the cloister, spire, gift shop and exterior of the building, all of which were remarkable and free. Salisbury was enchanting, as most small English towns are in my opinion. I look forward to further discovery.
Today was "Remembrance Sunday" (akin to Veteran's Day) in the Anglican church. Red poppies have graced many a coat and lapel the past few weeks. They covered quite a few altars today as well. I spent the morning taking a three mile jog up Headington Hell (anyone who has tried the same will agree). Eventually I made my way to Holy Trinity Church and the grave of C. S. Lewis. Hidden under a tree, weather-worn and inconspicuous I think he would approve. It struck me as profoundly obvious that this was a man - a sinful, grace-covered man, who lived, breathed and died, just as all those buried along with him. I look forward to finishing a few biographies and writing an essay on the matter in the next two days. I wonder if anyone will someday read the story of my life. Whatever would there be to hold their interest?