England is Calling Me...

Lately I've been dreaming of Glastonbury. I remember walking up the Tor early morning on May 1 and looking down at the mist - the old ones called it "dragon's breath" - that hid the town.

I remember walking around the town and eating in the Blue Note cafe - fresh baked bread loaf filled with mushrooms sauteed in butter.

I remember spending hours in the Avalon Library, reading books on Arthur.

I remember the magick shops, the bookstores, the manor houses.

I remember sitting on a bench inside Glastonbury Abbey and meditating, then going to Arthur's burial place and kneeling beside the marker, wondering where the bones had been scattered or was he still ensconced inside the Tor.

I remember Cadbury Castle - standing on the plateau and looking out over the green land and seeing the Tor in the distance - seeing Avalon.

I am homesick and want to return.