Today we meandered through the heart of crop circle country. Though crop circles have long been exposed as a hoax, that doesn’t stop the true believers from being convinced that they are UFO landing spots, portals to the faery kingdom, or messages from the Tooth Fairy. I’m thinking of marketing a do-it-yourself crop circle kit, consisting of one of those living lettuce packs from the supermarket and a pair of nail clippers. Maybe you could persuade a really tiny UFO to land? Or not.

Anyhow, where there are stupid people with irrational beliefs, there are not quite so stupid people ready to exploit them. See, for example, the people flogging gold coins to survivalists. In this case we have the not quite so malicious people selling beer to croppies.

Welcome to the Barge Inn, Honeystreet.

Turning its back on its long heritage as a boaters’ inn, the Barge has gone in for New Age (rhymes with “sewage”) decor that celebrates Stonehenge…

The Green Man…

and of course crop circles.

A sign behind the bar says Honeystreet is twinned with Roswell, New Mexico, and as well as the Croppie bitter they also sell Area 51 Cider.

Karen had the Area 51, which turned out to be scrumpy. I didn’t tell her about the rats.

Of course, there are some strange looking sheep in the neighborhood…

and there are a lot of military pill boxes in the fields.

Coincidence?

Of course it’s a f*cking coincidence.

Now for two boats named after beer.

We moored tonight close to the picturesque village of Wooton Rivers, a village where everything is thatched, and the church clock is stuck at half past G.