“We have crossed to the opposite hill now and stand contemplating the eye of the dragon.

Looking out, back into the depths of the Manger, I start to feel the powerful presence of the place in a vague, barely expressible way but Wen can actually see it… she outlines the processional route…picks out the torch lit chalk figure through the mist and brings my focus to the lozenge shaped head of the dragon which mirrors the hill shape and hollow of the Manger in an ascending scale of size which descends in height…such precision cannot be accidental…and the enormity of the achievement in fusing heaven and earth in this spectacular way slowly dawns.

“Sure, the people responsible for this chose their ritual sites with care but they also adapted them to fit their purpose!”

I can find no fault in the story Wen has outlined, in fact it is so compelling that I almost start to see it myself. Just then there is a flurry of wings, and squawks and screeches overhead and we turn our attention skyward in time to see an enormous Buzzard chasing off two Ravens from the precincts of Uffington Castle.

 “Oh, Don look!” cries Wen, “The hawk of the morning has chased the shadows of the night away.”

As if on cue a sky lark flies up from the Fairy Thorn with as incongruous a cacophony of song as you are ever likely to hear in such a setting.

Mirroring the skylark, Wen bursts into laughter and even I manage to smile at that one, “It appears that whatever it is we are going to do in April has just received its blessing.”

As the ravens fly into black specks and disappear in the mist another Buzzard glides into view and we watch the two mighty birds soar on the up-draught for a while, as if spiralling around some unseen cone of power.

It certainly feels like we have been accepted into something although I am not quite sure what. I make a mental note to look up the origins of the phrase, ‘…the Heart of Albion’.

“Now they’ve cleared the way, we may as well take a look at the Castle.”

We stride off past the Fairy Thorn and enter the plateau of the ‘castle’through one of its three entrances which form an inverted ‘Y’. Trying to map their sight points proves difficult in the mist so we fall to speculating about the ‘why’ of settling in such an apparently inhospitable place. A look up ends the speculation. The air overhead is fair crackling with energy which is abundant enough to be visible to the naked eye. They evidently liked to live close to the source…”