I was heading down to Bridgwater to stay with my friend Barbara and her family, and I’d decided that rather than simply drive there, I’d go via Glastonbury.

Because why not?

This is, after all, supposed to be about seeing where life takes me, rather than getting from A to B as efficiently as possible.

And it turned out that just getting there was part of the fun.

I found myself driving through gorgeous little country lanes and villages, the sort I’d completely forgotten existed.

After more than 20 years living in New Zealand, I think I’d also forgotten just how beautiful parts of Britain are.

Tiny lanes. Old houses. Hedgerows. Villages that look as though they’ve been sitting there minding their own business for several hundred years.

And wildlife.

Foxes.

Deer.

Hawks.

Pheasants.

At one point I began to feel as though I’d accidentally driven into an episode of The Animals of Farthing Wood.

Fortunately, nobody had been flattened by a lorry yet.

Eventually Christine and I arrived in Glastonbury.

I decided I’d start with the Abbey.

First observation:

It was expensive.

Still, there was a History Through the Ages live exhibition happening, which sounded interesting, so I paid up and went in for a nosey.

I was expecting an atmospheric journey through Britain’s past.

And to be fair, there were medieval peasants.

They were eating chips and burgers.

There were knights.

One of them squeaked as he walked across the field.

Then he started vaping.

Nothing transports you back through the centuries quite like watching a medieval knight disappear into a cloud of strawberry-flavoured vapour.

I also managed to get enveloped in smoke from a fire that clearly had some sort of historical purpose.

I never discovered what that purpose was.

Possibly cooking.

Possibly blacksmithing.

Possibly just smoking tourists.

Whatever it was, I got the full experience.

I wandered around the Abbey ruins, but if I’m truthful, I was a bit underwhelmed.

Perhaps I’d built it up too much in my head. Perhaps the vaping knight had broken the historical spell.

So I decided to head into Glastonbury itself.

And that was much more interesting.

The town is wonderfully bonkers.

There are witchy shops.

Druid shops.

Crystals.

Fairies.

Tarot.

Incense.

New Age clothing.

Things involving moons.

Things involving stars.

Things whose purpose I couldn’t begin to explain.

Every other doorway seemed to offer enlightenment, spiritual awakening or possibly a nice piece of amethyst.

I loved wandering around looking at it all.

And then, in the middle of Glastonbury, something completely unexpected happened.

I got talking to someone who had a connection to a person in the infected blood community.

Of all the places.

Of all the conversations.

We swapped details.

It was one of those strange little encounters that seems to keep happening on this trip — you set off looking for one thing and somehow find a completely different connection.

Then some of Glastonbury’s mystical glow took a bit of a knock.

I was chatting to one of the shopkeepers about all the unusual things they sold.

They explained how difficult it was getting their stock.

From China.

Oh.

There was something slightly disappointing about discovering that the mystical objects apparently channelled through the ancient spiritual energies of Avalon had actually channelled themselves through international freight.

Made in China.

It didn’t quite have the same ring to it.

By then the weather had decided I’d had enough enlightenment for one day.

It started raining.

Properly raining.

I’d considered going up Glastonbury Tor, which is probably the thing Glastonbury is most famous for if you discount the festival, druids, ley lines, King Arthur, crystals and importing mystical objects from China.

I looked at the rain.

I looked in the general direction of the Tor.

No.

I didn’t feel quite that spiritually committed.

So the Tor will have to wait for another time.

I headed back to Christine and continued towards Bridgwater.

I’d seen medieval peasants eating burgers, watched a knight vape, been smoked for reasons unknown, browsed enough crystals to realign several chakras, made an unexpected infected blood connection and discovered that some of Glastonbury’s ancient mystical treasures arrive via China.

Not quite the Glastonbury experience I’d imagined.

Much more entertaining, though.