Tag Archives: superstitious ignorance

"Get off my barrow" plea heard in ye Purbecks.

18 Oct

Five thousand years ago, people on this (not all that long before, covered in ice) piece of planet Earth, were imprisoned in a hell of primitive technology and superstitious ignorance. They had no smart phones but plenty of bronze dug by child slaves.

Whenever a thug calling himself a king, or one of his gang, or one of their kids, died, the people were pressed into the work of heaping mounds of earth over the dead body. Fortunately, most of these heaps of odious memory have been plowed flat for farming efficiency. 

But at Nine Barrow Down, in the Purbeck Hills (where 23 barrows remain) a few people, imprisoned in a weird world of delusion about an idealized past, are making a fuss to preserve these reminders of ignorance, superstition, and brutishness.

Jim Durkin, in a Swanage free glossy magazine, writes that the barrows are protected by English Heritage, but the National Trust is responsible for their management. Jim quotes National Trust ranger Paul Bradley:

“We want everybody who enjoys Nine Barrow Down to help us care for these barrows. If we encourage the grass to grow again on these barrows, then they will last for perhaps another 5,000 years.”

Amelia Roe, another of the National Trust rangers says:

We do not want cyclists or horses going over the barrows as this is causing quite a deal of damage and erosion… People will tend to stick to what they think is a well-worn path… …because of the erosion, it does look like a path runs over [the barrows].”

There is a “proper track” but most of it is only vaguely visible. So to further persecute any freedom-loving, fresh-air-seeking people of our hard-won-free, now-born-free nation, the Trust has placed hazel hurdles in the way…

So, go thou, I bid thee, up there, and do the hoe-down, the knees-up, the highland fling, the hokey-kokey, the twist, the Harlem shuffle, and any other prances and dances you can think of. England expects every dude to do his duty and shake his you-know-what…