The King Stone of Rollright (photo by Sir Wilson III)
If you’ve reached the impressive Rollright Stone circle, simply cross the road, go through the gate and into the field, then up the gentle slope to your right. Y’ can’t miss it! If though, by any chance, you can’t find the Rollright Stones, get to Chipping Norton and ask a local!
Archaeology & History
An integral part of the Rollright Stones complex, this gnarled almost moth-eaten-looking standing stone, whose edges were cut away for medicinal properties in earlier centuries, still awakes each morning beside the small rise in the field, long thought to have been the remains of an ancient tomb — much to the archaeologist’s opinionated disdain in bygone years. Yet they had to swallow their pride…
This is an eight-foot-tall standing stone made from the same local oolitic limestone as the King’s Men and overlooks the village of Long Compton on the northern side of the ridge. It actually stands besides an artificial mound which has been identified as a Bronze Age cairn—known in times past as the ‘Archdruid’s Barrow’— and suggested by Lambrick to date from around 1800 BCE. More recently however, the world’s leading authority on stone circles, Professor Aubrey Burl, has given the King Stone a more probable construction date of 3000 BCE. The date is consistent with other Neolithic finds in the adjacent fields. This old standing stone has suffered much down the centuries, with bits of it being chipped away to such an extent that it has been reduced to the novel shape we see today.
Looking up at the King (photo by Sir Wilson III)The King in dance
A little-known but important piece of megalithic history took place here in the 1970s and ’80s. It centred around an idea to investigation so-called “mysterious events” that are commonly reported at standing stones—and the King Stone has its own CV when it comes to such things. Curious stories have been described by people from all walks of life. Down the years, a number of people have told me of feeling some strange and powerful ‘energy’ at these places and stories of such things have filled many volumes, along with being the subject of many a folktale. So one evening in November, 1977, the then editor of The Ley Hunter, Paul Devereux, convened a meeting where twenty people from differing backgrounds gathered. At this first meeting were people from a variety of professional backgrounds: archaeologists, dowsers, chemists, biochemists, biologists, electronic engineers, geochemists, geophysicists, zoologists—and ley hunters of course. It was time, they thought, to address this issue of anomalous energies at stone circles and other ritual sites.
After some discussion about what they should call their investigations, “the long association of the dragon with some kind of earth force made it a fitting symbol.” And so, the Dragon Project (DP) was born…
On the misty morning of Saturday, 24 October, 1978, research scientist Don Robins—in the company of his dog and young son—drove the hundred miles from London to the Rollright Stones armed with a simple ultrasound detector. He didn’t know what he would find there, and his scientific training told him there shouldn’t really be anything untoward.
King Stone, looking W (photo by Sir Wilson III)Stukeley’s 1743 sketch showing the King Stone
Arriving around dawn, Robins took several background readings along some of the lanes a mile or so away and found the usual expected background levels (on a scale of 1-10, the background flickers between 0 and 1). When he eventually walked into the Rollright stone circle with his ultrasound monitor, no undue perturbations were found. He spent thirty minutes here, but at no time did he record anything other than background readings. So he crossed the road and tried the same at the King Stone—where a big surprise awaited him.
Switching on the detector he found an anomalously high reading, beating every minute or so, not unlike a heartbeat, more than five times above the background ultrasound!
“This was really peculiar,” he wrote, “in that the pattern was spread over about a minute and then commenced again after about 10 seconds, endlessly repeated.” Robins spent some time here and found that the strange ‘pulse’ wasn’t solely confined to the King Stone, but spread some distance around the old standing stone and onto the road itself.
Investigation of potential radiation anomalies was another avenue of enquiry explored by the Dragon Project, and although thousands of hours of monitoring were done at the three focal sites, there were few anomalies to write home about. Two however, were recorded in March and August, 1981, when radiation levels were twice the normal background rate for short periods of just a few minutes each. More puzzling was the finding—which can still be verified today—of radiation levels three and four times above background on the road between the circle and the King Stone.
Next on the list was an attempt to monitor the Rollright stones with infrared devices. This proved to be a potential goldmine, as there was the chance of photographic imagery. So early one morning in April, 1979, Paul Devereux readied himself at the King Stone. He took a number of photos at five minute intervals either side of sunrise. This time of day was chosen because of the repeated anomalous ultrasound emissions from the King and it was thought that this, if any, would be the best time to capture something on film.
“When the first roll of black-and-white IR film was professionally developed,” he wrote, “I was astonished to see a curious ‘glow’ effect around the King stone on the frame taken at sunrise.” His first account of it appeared in The Ley Hunter, where he described how “a hazy glow can be seen clinging to the sides and upper parts of the megalith. This glow becomes much stronger at the top of the stone where it looks like a cap of light.” Although the sun had risen, it was off to the left of picture and apparently no satisfactory explanation can be given to the effect on the plate. Research physicist Simon Hasler—who worked for Kodak—closely studied the negatives of this image and found the evidence for a simple explanation “weak.” A possible explanation of the mysterious glow was propounded by Don Robins, who suggested that an emission of microwaves from the stone may have been responsible, and although this sounds promising it has yet to be proven.
Folklore
(photo by Sir Wilson III)
Amidst the mass of modern lore, dowsed energy lines exceed here — although to be honest, most of them are little more than bullshit. Old school alignments in the form of leys that can be walked along are more credible, and one or two have been noted here. Dowser Laurence Main found a ley running between Broughton Church, “the old White Cross, the Victorian Cross and the old Bread Cross in Banbury. In the other direction the line led straight to the King Stone.” Although this line accurately links up these sites, other ‘ley points’ are utterly necessary between Broughton Church and the King Stone to give the alignment any real credibility. In a concise survey of the megalithic remains of this region made by Tom Wilson and myself, no other ley-points were found along the line.
In more traditional animist-based folklore, the creation myth here is well known. The famous, oft-repeated tale recites how a King and his men were marching across the land intent on conquering it when he came across an old hag, or witch near Rollright who offered the regal figure a magickal challenge. Some accounts name the witch as Mother Shipton—not the famous Yorkshire seer of the same name, but her less powerful (obviously!) southern counterpart. The old witch said to the King:
“Seven long strides thou shalt take, and
If Long Compton thou can’st see,
King of England thou shalt be.”
His majesty took this as a simple task and, with contempt, said to the old witch:
“Stick, stock, stone,
As King of England I shall be known.”
From where he was standing (which is never told, but presumed by most as the stone circle) the King then took seven long strides in the direction of Long Compton. As he was taking his seventh step the witch made the ground in front of him rise up, hence blocking his view of the village in the valley below. The old hag then said:
“As Long Compton thou canst not see,
King of England thou shalt not be.
Rise up, stick, and stand still, stone,
For King of England thou shalt be none;
Thou and thy men hoar stones shall be
And I myself an eldern tree.”
Thereupon, the King’s men who were waiting behind their master, the five knights in the field who were said to be conspiring against his majesty, and the King himself, were all turned into stone where they stood. The elder tree that the old witch turned herself into, was said to have grown along the old boundary close to the roadside, but this can no longer be verified. The folklorist Arthur Evans described several spots where the famed elder tree was said to have grown: one in the field close to the Whispering Knights, and another in the same field as the King Stone, close by another large stone that has long since gone.
When William Stukeley visited the area in the 18th century and heard about the legendary origin of these great monoliths, he told how “the country people for some miles round are very fond of, and take it very ill if anyone doubts it,” telling later, “The people who live at Chipping Norton and all the country round our first described temple of Rowldrich affirm most constantly, and as surely believe it, that the stones composing this work are a king, his nobles, and Commons turned into stones.
Another piece of animistic lore tells how the King Stone and the Whispering Knights venture, at midnight, less than half a mile south to drink from a spring in the small woodland at Little Rollright Spinney—although it is difficult to ascertain precisely which of the two springs the stones are supposed to visit. In some accounts, the stones reputedly drink from the well every night, but others tell that they only go there at certain times of the year, or on saint’s days. When Arthur Evans wrote of these tales he described there being a “gap in the bushes… through which they go down to the water,” but the terrain has altered since his day.
A variation of the same tale was told by T.H. Ravenhill, who wrote:
The old King c.1945King Stone, c.1920
“The Lord of the Manor of Little Rollright desired to possess the King’s Stone in order to bridge Little Rollright brook. So he dug it up and tried to cart it away, but found that he had not enough horses. He hitched on more, and yet more, and still he found that he could not move the stone. Finally he succeeded and hauled the stone away to the Manor House. The same night he was alarmed by strange sounds about the house, which he attributed to the presence of the King’s Stone, and decided, therefore, to replace it on its mound. No sooner had he harnessed the first horse to the cart than it galloped away up hill with ease, taking with it the stone, which leapt to position on reaching its resting place.”
Evans also wrote about an eighty-year-old local woman who told that her mother visited the King Stone on Midsummer’s Eve, along with many other locals, when the elder was in full bloom and they would stand in a full circle around the tall monolith. Ritual of a sort was performed then the elder tree was cut and, as it bled, “the King moved his head.” This annual rite was said to partially disempower the witch of her magickal hold over the King when her blood trickled from the tree. Some locals believed that if but a pin-prick of the witch’s blood was drawn, she would lose her power for all eternity.
Beneath both the Rollright stone circle and the King Stone, legend reputes there to be such a cavern where the little people live. In some accounts they are said to dance around the old King.
Arthur Evans told how one local man, Will Hughes, actually saw the faerie dancing round the King.
“They were little folk like girls to look at,” he said.
Old postcard, c.1910Sketch from 1904
Will’s widow, Betsy Hughes, told Evans that “when she was a girl and used to work in the hedgerows, she remembered a hole in the bank by the King Stone, from which it is said the fairies came out to dance at night. Many a time she and her playmates had placed a flat stone over the hole of an evening to keep the fairies in, but they always found it turned over next morning.” This curious entrance was a neolithic burial mound. Mark Turner described how the little people were “supposed to come out and dance around the stones by moonlight.”
As we have already seen, people used to take chippings off some of the old stones here—primarily the King—supposedly for luck, protection and good fortune. Local people used to blame Welsh workers more than anyone, but they wouldn’t be the only ones! Although those who took such chippings believed the pieces brought them luck, more often than not it was the opposite that happened. One local woman told Evans about her son who went to India as a soldier in the 19th century with a piece of the King Stone in his possession, but it did him no good whatsoever. He died of typhus! The Oxford archaeologist George Lambrick (1988) highlights in his book on the Rollright stones the extent of damage that has been done to the King Stone since 1607.
References:
Anonymous, The Rollright Stones: Theories and Legends, privately printed, n.d.
Bennett, Paul & Wilson, Tom, The Old Stones of Rollright and District, Cockley: London 1999.
Bloxham, Christine, Folklore of Oxfordshire, Tempus 2005.
Cowper, B.H., ‘Oxfordshire Legend in Stone,’ Notes & Queries (1st series), 7, January 15, 1853.
Devereux, Paul, ‘Is This the Image of the Earth Force?’ in The Ley Hunter 87, 1979.
Devereux, Paul, ‘Operation Merlin,’ in The Ley Hunter 88, 1980.
Devereux, Paul, ‘Operation Merlin 2,’ in The Ley Hunter 89, 1980.
Devereux, Paul, ‘The Third Merlin,’ in The Ley Hunter 92, 1981.
Devereux, Paul, Places of Power, Blandford: London 1990.
Devereux, Paul, The Sacred Place, Cassell: London 2000.
Evans, Arthur J., ‘The Rollright Stones,’ in Trans. Bristol & Glouc. Arch. Soc., 40, 1892.
Evans, Arthur J., ‘The Rollright Stones and their Folklore (3 parts),’ in Folklore Journal, 1895.
Lambrick, George, The Rollright Stones: The Archaeology and Folklore of the Stones and their Surroundings, Oxford Archaeology Review 1983. (Reprinted and updated in 1988.)
Michell, John, Megalithomania, Thames & Hudson: London 1982.
Pennick, Nigel & Devereux, Paul, Lines on the Landscape, Hale: London 1989.
Ravenhill, T.H., The Rollright Stones and the Men Who Erected Them, Little Rollright 1926.
Take the long steep zigzag road from Kenmore to Amulree, and just where the road begins to level out, park up near the isolated hut by the roadside at the side of the lochan. Just past here, a track on your left takes you onto the moors, past the lochan. Nearly a mile along the track splits: bear to the right, uphill slightly, then it’ll wind downhill and you’ll pass another track on your right. Ignore it, keep walking along and where you find a grassy little passing-place on your right—stop! Now walk uphill, onto the moor, through the heather for 175 yards and the land has levelled out. Look around!
Archaeology & History
Cupmarks from above
I came across this very basic carving when checking out a couple of others close by and found that it hadn’t been recorded before. It’s nothing special to look at, but is an outlier of the main Craig Hill cluster of carvings a few hundred yards to the west. The design consists of at least two cup-marks that have been etched near the top of the rock, although when I wet the stone it seemed as if a third one was next to the other two, as if in a line. The sun was at its peak when I found it, which meant that I couldn’t get any decent photographs to illustrate this—even when I watered the olde thing! It’s another carving that will only be of interest to the real petroglyph fanatics amongst you.
Holy Well (destroyed): OS Grid Reference – NN 9397 5770
Archaeology & History
It was more than a hundred years ago that the waters of this sacred well fell back to Earth. They emerged above the eastern side of the River Tummel, close to the bridge where previous there had been a local ferry at the site known as Port-na-Craig. The mythic history of the ferry and the holy well went hand-in-hand, according to local tradition. Its lore was was spelled out by the local author and historian Hugh Mitchell in a speech he gave when a new bridge was opened here in 1913. He said:
The Well was on the far side of the bridge
“The ferry at Port-na-Craig, though not as old as many ferries in Scotland, bears the respectable antiquity of something like eight hundred years. It was established by the monks of Coupar Angus when they got a gift of the lands of Fonab, and as Coupar Angus lay on the north side of the river Tummel, they established the ferry in order to have communication. In those days the ferry boat was made of skins stretched on branches or twigs, so it was somewhat dangerous to cross in, and the monks thought that they would improve the occasion by dedicating the well near the old ferry to St. Bride, so that people, when they ventured across the ferry, might propitiate the saint. It was customary for people to drop either a small coin or a brass pin into the well. He was afraid that brass pins rather prevailed, and no doubt, St. Bride, being a lady, would find them more useful. The well remained until recent times, when it had, unfortunately, to be filled up, on account of being contaminated by neighbouring fields.”
For “fields”, read sewage—for that was the actual reason it was closed. Mr Mitchell (1923) told as much in his subsequent history of Pitlochry, saying that “sewage was percolating into it.” John Dixon (1925) echoed the same thing a few years later.
The curative and magickal properties of St Bride’s Well had considerable renown for local people. Mitchell told that:
“It had a great reputation at one time for cases of lung disease… Pins and coins were dropped into the well as votive offerings, and the bushes above it were hung with rags to call the attention of the saint to the sufferer.”
A few miles north from here, at the back of Blair Castle, an old church is dedicated to St. Bride, whose celebration date is February 1. “The day was known as Candlemas in the Highlands,” wrote Mrs Banks, saying, in commemoration of the Celtic Brigit, “Feill Bride, the festival of Bride, displaced the festival of Mary.”
References:
Dixon, John H., Pitlochry, Past and Present, L. Mackay: Pitlochry 1925.
MacKay, L., Atholl Illustrated, L. MacKay: Pitlochry 1912.
Mitchell, Hugh, Pitlochry District: Its Topography, Archaeology and History, L. Mackay: Pitlochry 1923.
Cup-Marked Stone (destroyed?): OS Grid Reference – NN 8575 4901
Also Known as:
Clachmore
Archaeology & History
The Clach Mhor, or the Big Stone, is all but forgotten as an antiquarian relic in Aberfeldy. It’s history is somewhat piecemeal. First described in Hugh MacMillan (1884)’s essay on local cup-and-ring stones, he told that:
“A short distance above the village of Aberfeldy, where General Wade’s old road emerges from the houses, a huge stone, called the Clach Mhor, lies on the left-hand side in a slanting position half erect, as if supported by the garden wall of which it forms a part. …In all likelihood it originally stood erect, and formed one of a group of similar stones, its companions having been broken up in the formation of the road. …On the upper face there are some small cup-markings, not quite so well formed as usual, owing to the hardness of the material… The fact that they occur on only one side of the stone, and are scattered indiscriminately all over its surface, are sufficient to convince any one who is skilled in the subject that they are genuine specimens of prehistoric sculpture.”
Nearly thirty years after this initial description, MacMillan (1901) found that it had previously been a part of The Tullich stone circle, and following its destruction the Clach Mhor was moved and used as “part of a garden wall on the old military road passing along its base.”
More than fifty years later, the Aberfeldy historian N.D. Mackay (1954) told that up to 1910 the Clach Mhor was a conspicuous object, standing “as it were overlooking and to some extent overhanging the roadway down near the Square.” However, it
“was blasted and broken up in 1910 in the course of road widening operations, but a considable part of it was built into, and still forms the lower corner of, the garden boundary wall, nearest The Square, of the house which bears its name, ‘Clachmhor’. Its present position is slightly east of the site it occupied when I first knew it and, unless Wade’s men did actually move it, the site it occupied for centuries.”
Mackay also mentioned what he called the “indentations” on the stone which MacMillam deemed as cup-marks, but he pointed out that one Rev. John MacLean “believed they were made by the levers, jacks, etc, of (General) Wade’s men” when they cut the road into Aberfeldy in the 18th century, whilst
“A third solution was given by the son of a one-time local strong man called Big Robert, “What a strong man my father was,” he said, “he lifted that stone. Don’t you see the marks of his fingers on it?””
It’s not known what became of the Clach Mhor and whether it remains hiding in some walling, or whether it has met its demise….
References:
Mackay, N.D., Aberfeldy Past and Present, Town Council: Aberfeldy 1954.
Found barely 12 inches east of the Tormain (7) carving, this ‘cup-marked stone’ is another somewhat dubious design in the Tormain cluster, but which I’m adding here for the sake of completeness. It’s designated as authentic by the Scottish Rock Art Project—but I’m not convinced. Consisting of just two cup-marks, Romilly Allen (1882) was the first to notice them and described them respectively as, “one 1 inch in diameter and the other 1½ inch across.” The smaller of the two, I’m pretty sure, is geophysical in nature.
The location of this site has proved troublesome. Even when Rob Wilson (1991) did his local survey of holy wells he was unable to locate it—but it looks as if it shouldn’t be too troublesome to find, as the area in which it flowed is still very much a mix of open countryside and maintained landscapes. Described briefly as the “Wishing Well near Whiteley Wood” in Sidney Addy’s (1893) fine work, he makes a rather hopeful attempt to derive the word ‘wishing’ from German mythology, where “one of the names of the god Wuotan or Odin was Wunsch or Wish.” But – well – you just never know…..
In the landscape at Whiteley Wood there is a Priest’s Hill, so if this Well was found there, it may indeed have had an authentic ‘holy’ designation. But there were a couple of ponds in the area too, which may be fed by this spring. So, first, we need to find the well!
References:
Addy, Sidney Oldall, The Hall of Waltheof, William Townsend: Sheffield 1893.
Wilson, Rob, Holy Wells and Spas of South Yorkshire, Northern Arts: Sheffield 1991.
An important water source for local folk in Castley hamlet in previous centuries, this was one of several so-called ‘Wishing Wells’ above the higher banks of the River Wharfe a few miles from each other. It’s a title which, to be honest, was afforded the place when its original local name was removed. It was quite obviously a sacred well in earlier times, as it’s found beneath the slope of Chapel Hill, looking eastwards towards the rising sun, when the waters here (as at countless others) had their greatest remedial or magickal powers. Tradition told there was once a small chapel above the well itself. The spring was highlighted on early Ordnance Survey maps, but all that seems left here today is an occasional boggy mass in the trees at the bottom of the sloping hill.
The old folklorist and antiquarian Edmund Bogg (1904) wrote the following about it:
‘Wishing’ Well on 1888 map
“On the terraced bank near the garden, ’neath an overhanging hawthorn, is a beautiful spring of clear sparkling water, which is locally known as Castley ‘wishing-well.’ More than once we have heard the women-folk declare how, in their maidenhood, they loitered down the bank to the well, usually at eventide, when the birds were warbling their vesper song, and placed their offerings there in silence, yet breathing, as it were, the mute longing of their heart’s desire. It is a natural grotto fit habitation of fairies or the traditional elves. The bank, in which the well is situated, is known as ‘Snake Bank.’”
References:
Edmund Bogg, Higher Wharfeland, James Miles: Leeds 1904.
Acknowledgements:Huge thanks for use of the Ordnance Survey map in this site profile, reproduced with the kind permission of the National Library of Scotland.
Stone Circle (destroyed): OS Grid Reference – NN 857 489
Archaeology & History
In an early essay on the rock art around Aberfeldy, Hugh MacMillan (1884) remarked on what he thought was a tumulus on the southern slope above the town and where a large old petroglyph once lived. Subsequently (MacMillan 1901), in his beautiful artistic foray through upper Tayside, he revised his earlier remarks telling that:
“On the side of a high, tree-covered hillock, rising up abruptly behind the central part of Aberfeldy, called the Tullich, there was once a Druidical circle, one of the huge stones of which, called the Clachmore, forms part of a garden wall on the old military road passing along its base.”
The circle was mentioned in Mackay’s (1954) excellent work, albeit in the past tense, and he could add no more to it other than his memory of the whereabouts of the Clach Mhor (as it was more accurately known), on which were numerous cup-markings. (Note: the grid-reference to this site is an approximation)
Folklore
In bygone times the people of Aberfeldy observed the celebration of Samhain, the old pre-christian New Year’s Day—a.k.a. Hallowe’en—on November 11th. Interestingly for us, “bonfires were numerous and there was always a great blaze on the Tullich,” said Dr John Kennedy. (1901) Considering the small area of The Tullich, it would be unusual if such festivities did not have some relationship with the stone circle. Samhain relates primarily to the passing over of the dead in the cycle of the year: the spirits of the ancestors moving through the worlds. If this circle had such a relationship with the bonfires, it may have been a ring cairn and not a free-standing stone circle.
References:
Kennedy, John, Old Highland Days, Religious Tract Society 1901.
Mackay, N.D., Aberfeldy Past and Present, Town Council: Aberfeldy 1954.
Cup-Marked Stone (removed): OS Grid Reference – SE 1579 3995
Archaeology & History
Jenny Lane carving
A small, seemingly broken cup-marked stone that may have once been part of a prehistoric tomb, found itself being included in an old wall at some time in the not-too-distant past: in the south-facing wall of the cricket ground at the top end of town. No one seemed to know it was there until it was noticed in the 1950s by a local man who brought it to the attention of Sidney Jackson (1958), editor of the local Bradford archaeology mag at the time. Jackson visited the site and thankfully did a sketch of what it looked like, before it was removed at a later date. He wrote:
“The small rectangular stone bearing four cup-shaped hollows…is another of Mr George Pritchard’s finds. It forms part of the high wall which bounds the Baildon Cricket Club’s ground in Jenny Lane… Its appearance suggests that it is part of a Bronze age cup-marked rock which was split to make building stones.”
Following its removal more than twenty years ago, it ended up in the hands of a dude from Cononley called Gerald Wright. I’m not sure whether it still lives over there or has subsequently found a new abode. Does anyone know what’s become of it…?
Folklore
Although there’s nothing specific to this carving, the place where it was found, on Jenny Lane, was where a phantom black dog used to be seen in bygone years. It was renowned as the harbinger od death.
References:
Jackson, Sidney, “Cup-Marked Stone in Jenny Lane, Baildon,” in Cartwright Hall Archaeology Group Bulletin, volume 3, part 10, 1958.
Take the same directions as if you’re visiting the impressive Tormain (1) carving. About ten yards before you reach it, just at the top of the hill itself, almost the first flat stone you come across is the one you’re after. You’ll find it easily enough.
Archaeology & History
This is a notable design by virtue of the Ordnance survey lads marking it with an unusually large benchmark, utilizing at least one of the prehistoric cup-marks on their much more modern symbol. You can clearly see it in all the photos. The stone itself may have had a section of it cut or split from a once larger piece, probably in the 19th century when a lot of quarrying was being undertaken round here.
This carving was first described, albeit briefly, in John Smith’s (1874) piece on the nearby Witch’s Stone, where he told:
Allen’s 1882 sketch
“there is a group of three cup-like hollows near the highest summit of the hill; this last has, however, been altered in our own day by the officials of the Government Ordnance Survey combining them into one figure, by drawing from cup to cup their well-known and characteristic mark of the Queen’s ‘broad arrow.’”
To be honest, there’s not much more that can be said of it. A few years later when Romilly Allen (1882) surveyed all the Tormain stones, he simply wrote that,
“Stone D…lies 30 feet from stone A, and is the most northerly of the group; it is also the highest as regards level, and has an Ordnance bench mark cut on it… Round the bench mark will be found four cups, varying in diameter from 1 to 2½ inches.”
Not all of the cup-marks on this stone are prehistoric, as is obvious when you look at them close-up. Two, perhaps three of them are OK, with at least one of those that are attached to the Ordnance Survey mark widened and deepened when they came here in the 19th century.
Morris, Ronald W.B., “The Cup-and-Ring and Similar Early Sculptures of Scotland; Part 2 – The Rest of Scotland except Kintyre,” in Transactions of the Ancient Monuments Society, volume 16, 1969.
Morris, Ronald W.B., The Prehistoric Rock Art of Southern Scotland, BAR: Oxford 1981.
Royal Commission Ancient & Historical Monuments of Scotland, Inventory of Monuments and Constructions in the Counties of Midlothian and West Lothian, HMSO: Edinburgh 1929.
