On Saturday I visited the Bridestones near Congleton. A group of us met there, representing ( more or less) England, Ireland, Scotland and nearly Wales based on where we are living at the moment. It's an amazing place. An ancient burial place for a significant person. Linked with Ireland, Scotland, Anglesey and the Isle of Man in its structure and form. Pillaged by the Victorians for gothic rockeries in the garden of the adjoining house and in Tunstall Park. I hadn't visited since 1982, and as I arrived I could picture the photo taken there that day. When I got home I rummaged in the laundry basket full of random photos, literally hundreds of snaps, and of course found the one I could visualise.
As amazing as the stones are, the view on that crisp clear November day was stunning. We could see across Cheshire and Staffordshire, through the Midlands and over to Shropshire and Wales. When we climbed The Cloud, the beautifully named hill behind the stones we could see from Winter Hill, across the city centre of Manchester, picking out the Hilton Hotel tower, to Jodrell Bank, Alderley Edge,Mow Cop, Axe Edge, Hen Cloud,the Roaches, right across to Fiddlers Ferry power station and down to the Wrekin and the Shropshire Hills. A kingdom. A panorama in space and time for me - my past, present and no doubt future life in one view. From childhood memories of visits to Rivington Pike, to my old home, Manchester. Links to the book I had re-read this week - Alan Garner's Red Shift. My sister's house in Anglesey. My life on the day I visited in 1982, contrasted with my life now. Family trips to the Green Man festival, driving along the borders of England and Wales.
Quite a day and quite an experience for all of us - a sense of place. Far horizons. Who am I? Who was I? Why am I here?
I will never feel trapped in the Midlands again!
