Glastonbury

We spent the night in an enlightened carpark in Tintagel. It actually specified self-contained motorhomes such as us as OK overnight, for a mere 3 pounds. If only there were more.

From Tintagel we drove on the short distance to Glastonbury, a place we have visited many times before. We got diverted into the Clark's (shoes) Village and the outlet stores there, but finally got back on task to take in the celebrated and cheerful weirdness that is Glastonbury. See illustrations.

We finished up too late to find a proper campsite, and wound up in a farm campground near Wells. I misjudged the sogginess of the turf, and promptly got the Grey Wanderer stuck in the camping area. Really stuck. It's mud season here, but then I think probably every season here involves a lot of mud. The farmer happily pulled us out with his tractor--Vicki freaking out, despite his reassurances--noting this was not the first time, and we spent the evening in his (paved, sort of) driveway. 10 lbs; I guess includes the tractor pull. Nice people but not a nice circumstance. I vowed to avoid unpaved areas, especially in England.

Clark's Village, a nice outlet mall, though the

Clark's outlet itself was disappointing

We'd already done the Tor

And the Abbey, more than once, more than

twice, actually

So we concentrated on the high weirdness of High Street; it

reminds me of Haight Ashbury; but then Vicki reminds me

that the weirdness has been going on here for aeons

Steering a middle course between the Ying and the Yang

And hemp (in Avalon)

I swear the Psychic Piglet has been there for 30 years

Not to give an entirely one-sided picture of Glastonbury,

the beautiful George and Pilgrims hotel has been there since

1452; crenellated, too