Sleeping Stones

Sleeping Stones

I hovered closely as the car was loaded.  My playmate was leaving with his parents on holiday to go camping in Cornwall.  It was 1965 and I had just passed the ripe old age of 10.  The only time I’d ever travelled was a short trip to visit my mother’s relations in far off Nottingham and despite the gifts of money from well-meaning aunts & uncles it wasn’t exactly the seaside or the funfair.

My playmate Stephen and I had just broken up from Primary School and I was looking forward to playing out a long summer of games, adventures and friendship, which was to be shattered when he informed me he was going away camping with his parents. I felt hurt and alone, but what could I do?

My father was at the pub as usual and usually arrived home after closing time.  Sometimes he went straight bed, other times he argued and fought with my long-suffering mother.  Now I would have no one to share the long summer holidays with.  I didn’t make friends easily and being torn from my friend made me sad.

The sun was still quite high and I was out in the grounds of the house we rented.  Stephen’s father rented a garage from us and it was here he was packing the car ready for an overnight drive to Bude in Cornwall.  I circled with a mixture of sadness and envy; suddenly Stephen’s father spoke

“Well Graham if you are going to come with us you’d better get some sleep!”

I was dazed and excited…I was going with them!  It didn’t seem real, bit just before midnight I was loaded with my suitcase into the back of their Zepher 4 car with my friend.  Just as we were about to set off I saw my father stagger to the kitchen door to be ‘greeted’ by my poor mother. Part of me wanted to be at her side in case it was one of his more aggressive homecomings, but a 10 year old boy on his very first holiday?  I fretted for a few miles, but as we escaped into the Essex countryside I soon settled.

Stephen was used to it and so was his mum who dozed in the front passenger seat as did my friend next to me.  I wanted to chatter excitedly about every turn, every junction and every town we ghosted through, but I remained silent in wonder and respect for my chauffeur.  There were very few motorways then or dual carriageways for that matter.  So the journey was full of things to see, not the endless drudgery of mind-numbing straight-line 3 lane tarmac. I was thrilled and sleep was the last thing on my overloaded senses.

I have always been a restless soul and the constant motion of the journey fed my eager excitement, but his dad needed rest, despite us having travelled for three or more hours we slid into a layby and Alan ( Stephen’s dad) settled into a well-earned sleep.   I was alone and staring into the darkness. I had no idea where we were. I don’t suppose I really cared. My only geographical knowledge ended at the railway station back home and thence by train to London and the Midlands.  Now?  I knew it was anther part of the country, but it might as well have been another world, and that was about to dawn on me…literally.

An imperceptibly slow change took place as I stared into the darkness.  The first fingers of light slowly caressed the gloom.  Vague, moody shapes towering on the horizon took form.  These sleeping giants had slumbered for over 4,000 years and like my fellow occupants they slumbered on, ignoring the sun as it peered  above the brightening landscape.  I was spellbound by the monolithic stones.  I was seeing my very first sunrise; they had silently witnessed countless such events. 

I now know I was staring at Stonehenge.   Back then they were just Sleeping stones; unaware of my presence and of the joy they brought to me and the dawn of a life to come, not just of that single sunrise.   I will NEVER forget that morning, or a least I pray I will always remember those Sleeping Stones.