We felt lazy in the Moors – the view from our remote cottage was lovely and we needed a travel break. However, we eventually managed to drag ourselves out to look at Jamaica Inn (made famous by Daphne du Morier), learn about the smuggling trade and walk the moors. The landscape is interesting, ancient and lovely. Goat and sheep roamed freely, leaving their fresh marks among the standing Stones. Three stone circles line-up perfectly amidst more recent history of disused mine shafts and the remains of a Roman road. I was fascinated with the contrast between the accessibility of this ancient site and Stonehenge, and asked Derek to take photos portraying this. Derek had reservations about taking photos of large mounds of cow dung, but I explained that without this evidence, I would have to paint a word picture, so he agreed. However, for this post I have selected a photo which more accurately portrays the standing stones and run-down mines.
Derek and I both have some ancestry in Cornwall (we managed to find the Anglican church where Derek’s great-great-great grandparents were married in Penzance) and I felt more of a connection to the land than in other parts of England. Pondering this, I think there are many possible explanations including the mundane fact of my reading novels set in Cornwall, and of course, Poldark. However, I’m open to the possibility that it’s more elemental. Do we inherit memories of places in our genes which can be triggered at certain points with the appropriate stimulus, a source of the sensation of déjà vu?