The July issue of British Archaeology magazine has an article claiming that the Long Man of Wilmington and the Cerne Abbas giant both date only from the 17th century.

I admit I only skimmed the article, which was about things like remnants of brick, but I find this astonishing. I understand that the origins of these figures are hard to pin down, and that clearly much restoration or alteration may have taken place over the years – but what seems the strongest reason against the 17th century theory for me is their aesthetic.

The article rather lamely suggests that the Cerne figure’s priapic state is some sort of satire against Puritans or whatever – but I can’t really believe that someone in that age could have got away with such a stark image. And why, more importantly, would they have given an aesthetic with such an ancient feel to it? The Wilmington figure is weirder, less appreciable within a context of artistic development, perhaps, but the Cerne one in particular just doesn’t look like something anyone would have created in the 17th century.

Perhaps I’m just disappointed and defensive because I want to believe these sites really are ancient. But I still do.

1. Enjoyable cycle ride from Ely to Cambridge last month with T. – though I have to confess I don’t find the landscape round there very inspiring. The great acres of sky are fascinating – and helpful for avoiding the looming rain clouds – but the ground level is dull as fenwater. The atmosphere is so strange – and not just because of the ubiquitous smell of cabbage plantations: one expects an angry Tony Martin figure to brandish a shotgun at any moment. The countryside and villages improve towards Cambridge, with Reach very attractive, and then through Swaffham Prior with its preposterous two churches immediately next to each other. Also, a beautiful leper chapel on the edge of Cambridge – next ti the site of what is claimed to have been the largest fair in mediaeval Europe.

2. Also a very pleasant walk in Wiltshire last weekend with 7 friends, as a sort of anniversary to last year’s cycle ride. Ghastly train bureaucracy prevented us cycling this year (and, as it turned out, the weather), but on foot we enjoyed a great pub, an indifferent pub, and my favourite castle, the inevitable Old Wardour. No sign of what I hid there six years ago, but rather time to move on anyway. The best bit was throwing a frisbee around in the grounds.

3. My house is now officially on the market, so I must wean myself off the beautiful Wiltshire countryside and look for new adventures in Oxfordshire – assuming I can find a buyer.

4. Reading matters: have been consumed by James Surowiecki’s The Wisdom of Crowds – though my attempts to develop a horse-racing system inspired by it and using Google as an index of mass opinion have not led to fame and fortune alas… The book’s not perfect, but the central premise is very beguiling.

There’s a useful summary of recent work and thought here [link lost, sorry]. It turns out that *some* bones were found in the 18th century, but nothing very dramatic – nothing has been found since, apart from a few fragments which help suggest a date of around 2500 BC, and mediaeval and Roman finds.

John Barrett and Paul Devereux have both suggested its use as a platform, commenting that it would raise people to a level just about equal to that of surrounding hills, and apparently people standing on a missing Obelisk at Avebury would *just* have been able to see people standing on Silbury, as if they were actually at the same level. Interesting – though they must have had a very good reason to go to all that bother.

What I’d like is a map showing exactly where in the surrounding area Silbury is visible *from* – it’s largely hidden from south and east by natural hills. Oh for the time to do a circuit of it and make that map myself. Obviously what you can see from the hill itself would be interesting to tally, too. (Maybe a day off in July beckons…)

I think my new ancient site of obsession may be Silbury Hill. Hardly a new interest generally, and I still remember fondly ascending it at 5 in the morning with T. on our crop-circle-hunting holiday of years back, but H. and I now pass it on our route between Wiltshire and Oxford, and I love the journey partly just for seeing it.

I think it may be more mysterious than Stonehenge and Avebury, really, in the sense that they, although not entirely fathomable by any means, nevertheless yield certain information – the alignments give one at least some sense of their significance and purpose. Silbury is silent. As far as I recall (and I should really read up *before* writing this, but I will do it shortly…), we have almost nothing on Silbury: no significant burials, and of course it’s hard to align a mound with anything in particular.

I was reminded passing it yesterday that it is actually notably recessed: although its crown is visible for some way (a Roman road nicely traverses a field towards it and then deflects), which is curious. But it seems too small – and too much effort to construct – for a defensive structure, and again perhaps too much effort for a purely ceremonial one. Though what else it could be I don’t know. It’s beautiful.