So there we were, parked in a layby on the high ground beyond Penzance. It could have been the Mediterranean - a warm, sunny day with just enough breeze to keep things bearable. The sea was, I'm pretty sure, sparkling azure - not a phrase I ever thought I would use, but it seems to fit. Below us we could see almost the entire expanse of the bay from the Lizard round to Penzance and beyond, punctuated by the dark mound of St Michael's Mount. We ate our sandwiches as we sat in the car, a mechanical marvel that obeys my every reasonable command and burns fossil fuel to transport us from A to B in air conditioned comfort.
We were just down the road from Chysauster, an Iron Age village that we had failed to locate due to the Iron Age road signs. But so what. We hadn't a care in the world.
What, I wondered, would the original Chysausterians have made of us? Could they have comprehended anything at all in our lives that we take for granted?
Ladies and gentlemen, we are living in a Golden Age, and Golden Ages end. I just wonder how close we are to the finish of this one.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.