I had been studying the
configuration of the stones at Stonehenge for
twenty years. At first, I had understood the
monument as an astronomical observatory. So many
significant alignments of standing stones could
be found with the sun, moon and stars. Latterly,
however, experiments undertaken by the Department
of Statistical Research at London University
began to concern me.
The researchers had
randomly scattered rice grains on a table and
carefully marked the locations at which they fell.
They had then demonstrated that many alignments
of the grains could be made with significant
astronomical events. The Stonehenge alignments
might be no more than coincidence.
Whilst being a profound
disappointment, this opened my mind to a new
possibility suggested by two experiences. The
first occurred on a holiday to the Arctic Circle.
Here, as thunder echoed through the mountains and
lightning cleft dark, ominous clouds, I re-read
the myths of the great Norse gods of Wind and
Thunder. Later I holidayed in Egypt where, under
the relentless heat of the sun, I had marvelled
at temples built to the Great Sun God, Amun.
It was while watching the
sun set behind the palms on the west bank of the
Nile that the inspiration came upon me. The
prevailing weather conditions in both the Arctic
and in Egypt had defined the key characteristics,
the very essences, of the gods. If one could
define that factor in relation to the British
climate, then the religious significance of
Stonehenge would be revealed.
On my return, I journeyed
once more to the familiar, ancient stones. It was
a wet morning and I wrapped my coat tightly
around me as I trudged through the damp mist to
the centre of the inner ring. For the first time
I noticed how water trickled down the horizontal
lintel stones and fell to form a liquid curtain
between the huge sections of upright masonry. The
mist had encircled the stones and the wind
swirled fine rain up and down and left and right.
It was as if I stood in the centre of some
massive, primeval raindrop.
I felt myself overwhelmed
with a sense of oneness with my surroundings and
compelled to shed my clothes to more closely
commune with the elements. It was in that moment
of religious ecstasy that three revelations were
given to me. Like temples to the Norse Thunder
God and the Egyptian Sun God, Stonehenge was a
temple to the British God of Drizzle. Roman
references to Coldendamp, when
writing of this country, were now clear. This
must have been the name of the deity. In that
moment, I also realised that Coldendamp was the
one true God.
I have now retired from
archaeology and devote myself to my duties as
High Priest of Coldendamp. Sadly, I am banned
from Stonehenge following my conviction for
indecent exposure at the site. There are many
Neolithic shrines to Coldendamp across the land,
however, at which I, and my ever increasing band
of followers, can worship. I hope you might join
us, but even if not, may the Waters of the
Heavens be with you.