They are the places where the past can almost be touched. They are a myriad worlds clashing against your brain and yet you do not have the key to open them. What the hell is she talking about? Well perhaps you can only see them on Sunday, when the world quietens down for a start.
I do not believe in spirits and ghosts but there are times when they drift past, elusive just like the memories in your brain. For me a thin place is St. David's Headland, with its cathedral snuggled so neatly into the valley of the town and the prehistoric barrows scattered on the headland strewn with rocks. The meeting of land and sea, the elements all add to the timelessness, the magic of 'place', when you can almost reach out and touch past worlds, still riding the Universe in an endless cycle.
Another thin place is the valley around Llanthony Priory, the narrow road that takes you past Welsh farms and the tiny church of Capel-y-Fin. You will eventually arrive in Hay on Wye. the 'town of book shops', something Bovey Belle wrote about the other day.
Wales is a country landscape full of greyness, grey houses and grey rocks. Its hilliness makes farming difficult, sheep scatter the uplands but it is also green and damp, there is a poem somewhere on this blog about one of the beat poets Allen Ginsberg visiting Capel-y-Fin "Heaven balanced on a Blade of Grass"
Enjoy the video, I need coffee and a scone that I have just baked..........