Summer Solstice is upon us and ordinarily I'd be making my way on foot or by bicycle to Avebury, as has become customary. Alas, not this time.
The forecast, it must be said, is dismal and while I've done my fair share of wet solstices I can't say a night out in the pissing rain is all that appealing right now. Having just moved to Dartmoor I feel little compulsion to go anywhere else. I'm still landing. But in truth, I'm staying put because I'm knackered, deep down tired, and I simply don't have the energy for all night shenanigans, music and magic brews. No, it's the acupuncturist's couch for me today and the summoning up of dwindling kidney chi.
But making use of the brief interlude of sunny weather earlier this week, I climbed up Meldon Hill, all four hundred metres of it, and, standing on a granite outcrop, gave the setting sun three blasts on my Solstice Horn. I trust that sufficed.