I am outraged! Yes Ladies and Gentlemen it’s going to be one of ‘those’ blogs again!! Hopefully once you’ve heard me out you might understand and perhaps even agree or share my upset!
The National Trust was founded in 1895 with the aim of, and I quote, “saving our nation’s heritage and open spaces”, why then do I seem to spend time once every 6 months writing to this institution, who according to their website are “still working hard to uphold these values” to notify them of the frequent and utter devastation and disrespect which seems to be going perpetually unnoticed at The Coldrum Longbarrow…supposedly owned and “protected” by The National Trust?!?
It must have been over 2 months ago now, I remember it was dark moon and I was making my way home after a particularly fulfilling ritual under the pine trees not too far away from the Coldrums. As I walked past the mound, I was dumbstruck to behold a gaggle of teenagers partying pretty hard on top of the barrow. Not such a big deal you might think but this place is pretty far out of civilisation so these kids had to drive there…fires blazing, beer cans slinging…I dreaded the aftermath but there was no way on this fair green earth that I, a lone Witch (carrying a stang and probably looking quite strange to them walking a lone at night!) was going to confront 12 or more teenagers who were probably drunk and God only knows what else.
I got home, uneasy….the buzz of the prior ritual obliterated and transformed to anger! I did however return to The Coldrums the next day and I remember weeping at the edge of the site…not only a second, but a third fire pit now scared the green earth each one filled with half burnt rubbish, charred iron nails and broken glass. Beer cans littered the periphery of the barrow, casually cast aside…just as it seems the site itself has been by its supposed guardians…The National ‘Trust’.
I angrily cleared as much as I could, collected the litter and removed the debris from the fire pits stuffing it into pockets bags. “Good for you mate” came the voice of a local ‘Pagan’ as his misses tied another f**king bit of polyester to the petition tree. I smiled back at him…it was one of ‘those’ insincere smiles that’s only with lips, inside I wanted to pull him down to his knees by his pentacle necklace and unwashed pony tail and make him help me. Instead he turned his back and continued…contemplating the universe no doubt.
So yet again I wrote to the National ‘Trust’ that afternoon informing them of what I had beheld, included photos I had taken of the scars, the wax, the graffiti etc. I offered my services again, offered to clear the site myself again, offered to repair the fire pits myself and at my own expense again, asked them to invest more time on the site to keep it safe again and yet again I have had no response…nothing, diddly squat to this very day.
A small comfort is that more shitty laminated paper signs proclaiming there shall be “NO FIRES” on site. Like that’s gonna stop someone!!!
So Ladies and Gents…what do we do? What can I do? Do I take matters into my own hands and clear the site regardless of having National Trust support or not? Do I run the risk of getting into serious trouble myself? Do I write to the National trust again…only to be further ignored? Or perhaps I should conjure some frightful beast to prowl the perimeter of the site and pounce on anyone who dare cause harm? Worse still…I could write to the local press and let them have at it?
Who knows…I’m at my wit’s end! Gods willing…this post might be considered a good start…
One thing’s for sure…The National Trust are not quite as noble as they proclaim. The Coldrum stones is a public monument, there is no entrance fee and therefore no profit to be had for these tycoons…one can only assume that were I to be a paying member of the NT (they get about £80 p.a. from their members by the way!) or some grand stately home was under threat, perhaps they would respond differently. For now however, their apparent inaction makes them just as bad as the disrespectful perpetrators of this constant desecration, which continuously befalls this, my most beloved of sacred sites.