And now Stonehenge is ringed off from little boys and all folks, including the poor Druids wanting to do something or another on Midsummer's Night. King's Lynn is a *really* pretty little town though. While the fens can be depressing in winter (the wind seems to arrive uninterrupted from Siberia), I have never seem anywhere with skies that seem so big.

The day at Stonehenge, like the 1970 World Cup, are well etched in my mind despite the intervening addling. We were at a huge and packed beach near King's Lynn and my brothers and I had swam out to a sandbar when a horn went off. As one, the entire crowd stood up and headed for their cars - the horn was to announce the final game started in an hour.

Most interesting that these two memories of England in 1970 are from hot sunny days...

I read somewhere that everyone believes the longest hottest summer was the summer of their eighth year. And world cup fever is a strange and wonderful thing.

Alan
I also have a great memory of Stonehenge. I was driving down to Cornwall. with a friend. We thought if we drove through the night that we would miss the traffic. In the middle of the night we came over the edge of the plain to see the henge in moonlight. We could not resist and stopped. Crawled through the fence and wandered around. The cool air, the many pints of beer had their effect and we used a great stone as the ideal urinal. Then we heard a bonging sound and the tramp of boots. We had been picked up by sensors and were arrested by the police. Maybe not arrested but certainly apprehended. Pleading guilt and ignorance we were let off. This was my only clash with the law.

I am glad my contact with the stones was before your choice of relief posts.