Years ago, whaddya do? Drive out of London for the ROLLRIGHT STONES. Set up with a few tarps, grill venison on ye olde homely fire pit, drink a few Hackney Spritzers and then go to the stones as the Moon waxes full.
And there they were, us and the ancient stones themselves, shining in the silvery light of the moon, so ghostly Selene. Witch way? But no Wild Hunt. No UFOs. No ghosts. No portals to another time and space, or were there? Maybe not so fast.
Mr. Winwood sings about it in his acclaimed song:
Rock on kids,
LSP
