Enchanted

The Celts did not have writing, so there is very little evidence of what life was like in pre-Roman Britain. Inferences from archaeology, some prejudiced observations from the invaders, oral legends that might have got written down centuries later, that's about all we have got. It's not even certain that the people who lived here would have recognised any such thing as "the Celts" - any kind of co-ordination or unifying authority or common culture that meant that they saw themselves as part of a larger civilisation than their family and immediate community or tribe

We call their religion paganism; we call their priests druids. We know some of the names of some of their gods, but we don't really know how those names fitted into any kind of coherent view of existence. We think that elements of the natural world - earth, sky, lakes, rivers, springs, trees - were each associated with their own specific god, and possibly that the god was somehow inhabiting the thing that they represented, emanating from it. Trees had a particular importance, and it seems that each kind of tree has its own deity - yew and holly, misletoe, hazel and oak. The word 'druid' comes from the same roots as the words meaning 'to see' and 'oak' - an oak-seer. Insofar as we have a clear picture at all, it seems rather beautiful

When we became empty-nesters, we sold the draughty, energy-guzzling, cavernous barns-that-we-called-a-house, in which we had reared our children with character-forming iced-up windows and indoor wildlife. We spent some of the proceeds on a smaller house and the rest on turning it into something we would enjoy living in - incorporating our own ideas of what the "good life" comprises. Lucky us to be able to play that game

A lot of what we bought was boring stuff: sand and lime, membranes and insulation, pipes and wires, taps and plugs, doors and windows that - unlike the old ones - kept heat on one side and water on the other. Sinks and hobs and ovens can be interesting for a while, but you soon start taking them for granted. We got both worksurfaces and floor-tiles made from real stone that are a real pleasure. But the luxury that gives me the most enduring joy was our decision to replace all the dull, 1960's, plywood internal doors with six oak-ledge doors with antique-style door furniture. Perhaps there is a bit of druid in me, but I still, every day, find the grain and the knots and the splits and the changing colours constantly uplifting and cheering

This is the back of the downstairs bathroom door, so I spend more time sitting looking at it than some of the others. And the ghost of a pagan spirit and I look at one another, and share a brief smile