Summer Rain

Yes, it was wet. Technically it was even wetter at home but, at home, the water only comes from the sky. Here it seems to come from the sky, the ground, the trees and bushes and blows in sideways through the gaps. So what. We walked anyway. The neolithic stones brooded in the mist. The falls had plenty of water; we played the game of starting fixedly at the cascade so that, when you shift focus to the rocks, they seem to be crawling upwards. Perhaps we felt like children, so we talked of childhood, in a country that has long disappeared, when an entire London street had no cars and no-one ate meals in restaurants

The information board said that neolithic people left the bodies of the dead in the open until the bones had been picked clean by ravens, before interring them in chambered tombs. We wondered how they know it was ravens