I went from the hills (first headfuck experience on Bleadon Hill in Somerset about 9-10) to the woods, back to the hills, and saw Avebury in the 80's, which blew my top off.
Now I miss the hills again. Britain's landscape is so special it's almost unbelievable, that's why I get to crying rage when it's destroyed by consumer culture.
Earliest memory of *being* 'outdoors' is standing on a dead stump nr the monument on Wychbury Hill, Worcesterhire, with grandparents, shouting lungfully 'I'm the king of the castle and your the dirty rascal'
I got into Antiquarian stuff through Janet and Colin Bord, and a fasciantion for crumbling ruins.
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