Where did this all begin? As with archaeology, the best mysteries are revealed layer by layer. The topmost of which was obtaining a field journal, to record visits to ancient sites and capture my thoughts.
The journal was for my own personal enjoyment, and a way to find my interest in writing again, having previously worked in publishing and not feeling too comfortable with the egos of writers in the screenwriting industry. In terms of a reset, there’s nothing more humble than a stone (unless of course, you’re Stonehenge).
A small leather book sitting on top of a coffee table already creaking under the weight of larger tomes is bound to attract the attention of friends, who suggested I publish its contents as a blog. So here we are.
Some 25 years prior, a marvellously spaced-out musician published a remarkable volume which documented his exploration of and theories on ancient sites. The book was The Modern Antiquarian, and its author was Julian Cope, creator (and survivor) of such outlandishly dangerous games such as ‘Sock’ and ‘Brick.’
For a generation, that book opened up a world we might’ve presumed to be the sole territory of academics. For a 25-year-old living 170 miles north of where he grew up, it contained small reminders of his home turf and opened his eyes to a larger world. All the book asked was that we go out, find and experience these places for ourselves.
Some 18 years before that, a family picnicked at Stonehenge, and the young boy in the photograph had so many questions going through his mind that day. He had no idea just how old those stones were, nor for how long a stylised chalk horse had been galloping across the Berkshire Downs (that hill is forever Berkshire no matter what Oxfordshire has to say on the subject). But one day, he might find out. Or at least have a greater understanding of what it was all about.
And here we are, four decades later. The world has changed and technology has advanced, but not always for the better. Sometimes you just need to take a step back and return to the basics to find yourself again. In the first entry of my field journal, I call this ‘an act of rebellion.’
I hope to see you out in the field, do come and say hello.
Stone Diaries 