The burial mound

My first idea for the title was ‘A grave for Helen Grant’ but came to the conclusion it sounded a little too gruesome. I meant a grave to interest her, not one to bury her in.

I’m not madly into graves myself, but I keep an open mind in regard to others who like churchyards and tombs and gravestones and that kind of thing. Last time I saw Helen she half suggested we could meet when she went back to the cemetery that she had had to miss due to it being closed the time before when we were in the same town at the same time. Sort of ‘kill a witch and some more graves with one stone.’

Stone - halfway to the Burial Mound

This means if you’re lucky, she’ll fit you in when she has graves to examine in a dark corner near you.

But this time it was me who trudged through trees and stuff to find a burial mound for Helen. The Resident IT Consultant wanted to find a little walk just the right distance for me, and preferably somewhere away from the cold wind we. So, woods it had to be.

The sign - Burial Mound

I’ve spent part of the last 45 years in the vicinity of this mound, but never really had enough motivation to do more than read the sign as I swooshed past on the main road.

The sign mentions the bronze age. My history is rusty (bronzed, even) and I suffer from a possible delusion to do with ‘ages’ but I believe my bronze age might be different from yours. So I don’t know when this was. A while ago.

The mound

I didn’t read the words. I instructed the Resident IT Consultant to take pictures for ‘his pal Helen Grant.’ He did. I emailed them to Helen and she was suitably polite about this pile of stones and earth.

The mound

It was quite nice in there. Warm, away from the wind. Too warm, actually. There were insects. I sat down briefly on a stile, seeing as there was no bench by the mound (should have been!), and discovered it wasn’t a good idea to be wearing yellow socks. I became popular with the giant ants, who have less dress sense than the rest of you, who are shuddering at the thought of yellow socks.

Stile - with ants

What can I say? They were to match my yellow jacket, which I didn’t need, on account of the windproofness of the woods.

The view - Burial Mound

At last I can say I’ve seen it. Don’t quite have the t-shirt. There was also an ‘interesting’ stone wall, but I didn’t grasp why it is so interesting. Nice enough, I suppose. And I suspect that without Helen’s grave postings on her own blog, I’d never even have agreed to this ant encounter.

The wall

Reading books can have a funny effect on people.

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One response to “The burial mound

  1. Nice excursion!

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