After being robbed £7.50 for the bus there and back to Salisbury Station, I decided it was From My Cold Dead Hands that I would part with another £6.50 just to get 10 meters closer to the sodding rocks. However, I had an hour to kill until the return bus and I was determined to extract as much photographic goodness as possible from the previous £7.50 swindle. So I started lurking around the place (a fenced-off field full of sheep) and when I found a nicely
inconspicuous hole in the fence, I plunged in.
Lying low and trying to blend in with the crowd (baa,baa, they went, and so did I) I got to within 100m of the thingie and entered into a photographic frenzy. I have extensive proof of it. After a while I thought I should try to get nearer, and that's when I noticed a big chunk of woman very purposefully walking in my direction (I wonder how she recognized me; I was trying to look really sheepish. Maybe it was the first time she saw a sheep with a backpack.). With a very british cordiality she apologized for having to ask me to leave, as it was private property and I was not a ticket holder. Very cordially I too explained to her that it was all right and she should not worry, for it was not her fault, and I left.
I walked all around the "property", looking for a high spot where to get a good picture from. I walked on the side of a road paved with dead rabbits, packed with screaming trucks and full of horning cars full of people with very empty heads.
Every horning fuckwit screamed something at me (some very wise piece of advice, no doubt) in some language of the Doppler family, with which I am not acquainted. "Gheropaaaah", it all sounded like.
After a while I found the hill I was looking for, where I had to trespass again, for it was another private club, sheep only. After some more self-photo fun, I headed back just on time to jump on the bus and say good-baa-ee to Stonehenge.
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