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john davies
notes from a small vicar
from a parish
in Liverpool, UK

    Tuesday, March 09, 2004
    The stones, the stones remain
    Never done this before. Blogged from a BT Blue Box. I'm at Holyhead Ferry Terminal, pondering the pros and cons of a Dublin day trip. Pros - Dublin town, with all it has to give the curious (read that how you want) pilgrim; cons - my stomach and the Irish Sea tend not to agree.

    As I stand here at this keypad, staring out across an empty estuary, feeling like a silent preacher at a secular lectern, I imagine I shall likely stay on terra firma, exploring the holy isle of Anglesey instead.

    That is a fine pursuit, anyway. Dubin can wait. Today I've been among the stones, Copey's heavyweight gazetteer my guide. I never knew before that Holyhead is itself on an island - one steeped in history and prehistory. Fascinating experience standing atop Trefignath burial chamber, 5,000 years old, looking down on the very twenty-first century aluminium works which dominates the East of the island, scanning the sealine where the country's largest and most frequent Irish ferry sits in dock while passengers board, looking up and over shining Holyhead Mountain, even older than the rocks on which I stand.

    Struck by the transitory nature of much of what caught my eye - traffic on the shining A5, the massive aluminium works chimney, jets flying out of Valley to terrorise Mount Snowdon's sheep. Wondered how much of what I now see will be here in 5,000 years. We live in days of speed and steel. But the stones, the stones, remain.