Many in the UK seek comfort in the past, whether the Celtic twilight of Camelot, or pride in the innovations of the Victorian era. But peel away the fantasies and we’re left with little – just overcooked roast beef and roundabouts. This is a rant about our obsession with the past – and obsessions in general, whether these are my own, or those of the nostalgic British public.
Tag Archives: King Arthur
Glastonbury
Glastonbury is the capital of These Weird Isles. Forget the Festival, wander into town. It is the epicentre of the age old longing for some half hidden Celtic twilight, a nostalgia for a time that never was, a home of sorcerers, eccentrics, tarot readers and crystal magic. If towns are rock bands, Glastonbury is Hawkwind.
Tintagel
The Cornish pastiche: Tintagel, a castle on a rocky outcrop, is this Camelot? No, it’s not.