(a.k.a Carreg Samson)
With a total disregard for tradition we tackled our ‘just right bowl of porridge’ first .
It is strange to say, perhaps, but this particular conglomeration of, once covered but now exposed, structured stone did not, initially, feel particularly motherly.
For one thing there seemed to be a general reluctance for people to step inside.
Was this fear, awe, reverence…?
Perhaps it was a commingling of all three emotions…
The structure does cast an illusion of wanton precariousness.
Those undressed slabs of rock together comprise an impressive sight and tonnage.
The bones of our ancestors were once interred here.
More recently it has served as a sheep shelter.
Whatever it was it was soon dispelled as we got ‘down and dirty’ in the chamber in order to read a contemporary ‘Druid Prayer’.
There is a theory about male and female standing…
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