Diary of a Wandering Psychic 03

[thorr-kan]

8 May 2008:

(NOTE: Wortham Manor is a real place in Cornwall. It’s part of Britain’s Landmark Trust. These are historic properties that have been purchased and renovated by a nonprofit organization. They are then rented out as lodgings. Think of a bed and breakfast, without the staff. Think of camping in a building 500 years old. And it’s all yours. I really can’t recommend the Landmark Trust properties enough.)

Visit sunny England for your vacation! See the sigts, and get tan!

Who would believe that spring in England would be so warm and inviting?

The flight over the Pond on 2 May is uneventful. The plane lands in Manchester, and I aquire my rental car without any difficulty. Learning to drive on the left side of the road takes about 5 hrs to become familiar. After that, it seems the most natural thing in the world. About 80% of the rules are the same anyways; most of the rest is common sense.

The drive to my lodging place is uneventful, but takes about 6 hours. English roads are alright and the traffic is light, but even the main motorways pale in comparison to American Interstates. I arrive at Wortham Manor in time to shop at the local farmer’s market and stock up on supplies. I have the whole 13 bedroom manor to myself, excepting the caretaker a half-mile away and the resident sheep.

The first two days are spent settling into the Manor. While I rattle around in such a large place, the solitude allows me to relax my shielding. There’s an aura of history and and echo of previous inhabitants to the rambling old manor, but no ghosts or entities darkening the environment. It’s actually quite restful.

On 5 May, I make my first excursion. I drive several hours into Cornwall to visit St. Michael’s Mount. This was an abby, a fortress, a family home, and now the equivalent of a national park, all encapsuled on a small island. It can be reached by a causeway during low tide, but only ferry during high tide. Fascinating.

On 6 May, I travel to Levant Mine. This was a tin mine, stretch down thousands of feet and miles out under the Atlantic Ocean. It is home to a restored steam engine, the first steam powered pump in England used for mining purposes. This part of Cornwall is very economically depressed. Its aura weighs more on a sensitive, but not terribly. It is no as restful as St. Michael’s Mount, but it is very interesting.

On 7 May, I make the pilgrimage to Tintagel, legendary birthplace of King Aurthur. Regardless of the real history, the whole site is awash in psychic energies. It feels like being buffeted by a light breeze in a sandy area. Physically, the site is beautiful. Oddly enough, the psychic storm leaves one feeling renewed and refreshed.

Today, I rest from my journeys. It has been very interesting scouring southwest England. Strange lines of thought cross my mind. I am from America’s Heartland, where we pride ourselves on our privacy and the wide open spaces. Recorded history only goes back 500 years; beyond that, it enters into lengend and myth. Here, in a country only 10% larger than my state, you have ten times as many people.

And you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting a thousand years of history!

Something to ponder on the drive to Scotland tomorrow.