Glastonbury is a hub for spirituality, psychicness, and perhaps the fringe of wicker and weirdness. We stopped by a little b n b owned and run by John’s friend, Adele. This was no normal bed and breakfast. It was called “The Covensted” which means Witches Lair. Might give you an incline of the type of place. But if you were not really sure by the name, it certainly hit you as you walked in. A witch’s home, wall to wall with spell books, cobwebs, wicker symbols and black cats (stuffed of course).
We let ourselves in and peeped into the hallway. I was afraid the eyeballs on the side table were watching or perhaps the stuffed crows on the ceiling were spying on us. Either way, pretty creepy.
“Adele!” John called but not a sound except the floor boards creaking as we made our way into the great Dinning Room.
Red velvet table cloth and creepy old oak chairs were the least of it. The rows of Tarot, and pentagons were a little off putting but the skull that happened to be just sitting on an end table made me jump back in freight. It looked completely real, that was what got me. John assured me it was.
I was sure there were lots of ghosts here wanting to talk to us. I actually didn’t want to tune in psychically here. I wanted to cover myself with three layers of white light. I wished I’d worn a crucifix but it may have burned a hole in my chest walking through this place. Then Adele arrives all flustered. She was busy preparing for her guests’ arrival. I secretly wondered what this entailed. Some sort of spell? You see this is an authentic wicker hotel. Um, I thought, “Bed Breakfast and a Séance.” She looked busy, we thought we’d come back later for the Séance. Or maybe not…