So like the good Pagan I am I decided to celebrate the Summer Solstice in my own way, by driving past on the A303 (on a crystal meth run for the Asba bwoys in Brixton Deverill) five hours after it all happened. There were signs of the big event, bollards along the verges, the odd crusty, green flourescent jackets on the hillside and no bloody tourists around the stones!
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