Sir,
We’ve just had another wonderful week’s holiday on Arran, and did the Mogabout tour for the first time. I wrote a review which might interested your readers.
I took a deep breath, stilled my mind and rubbed my right thumb and forefinger together as I stepped forward. I paced slowly and deliberately to the end of the cairn, then turned and walked back. Were my fingers sticking? Was there a force emanating from the rock? No. Sadly, I felt not a thing, despite standing on a ‘ley line’ on a 6,000-yearold burial ground. ‘I didn’t think you would, it’s too rainy,’ the guide, Alex, told me. I smirked, thinking about how else we might ‘feel the energy’. ‘I’m not getting naked,’ I stated. The rest of the group laughed. We were standing on the Giants’ Graveyard at the south end of Arran, observing the remaining stones and trying to imagine what the structure used to look like before the landowner commanded the peasants to remove them to construct a wall 200 years previously.