If there’s one thing Wiltshire does well, it’s stuff that’s very, very old. If you want to see structures that were as ancient as the Colusseum is now by the time anyone in Giza had started stacking blocks, Wiltshire is the place to come to. Of course, one such structure stands out above the rest in terms of notoriety but, in the interests of not overplaying our trump card, that particular place will remain unmentioned until the time comes to actually visit it. Instead, this weekend we spent a bright winter morning walking around the biggest stone circle in the country at Avebury.

What is striking about the site, when compared to many other ancient monuments, is the way in which the world has woven itself into the fabric of the place as opposed to standing off at a safe distance. Thousands of cars travel daily along the busy roads which cut straight through the circles, while the village itself has grown into its midst like a creeping plant working itself through the cracks of a building. This is not necessarily a bad thing though and it once again speaks of the charm in the way Wiltshire displays its past. This is something I have spoken of before, that history here, with the exception of the-place-which-shall-not-be-named, does not hide itself behind barriers or glass cases, it’s just there and you are free to touch, prod, poke and generally experience it as you see fit.

It was our good fotune that we turned up on one of those rare events, a bright January morning on which the sun shines and the green grass glows against a cobalt blue horizon. But an in-depth account of our wandering is not going to interest anyone, rather it is the story of the place itself which provides the magic here.

While the nearby West Kennet Long Barrow marked a change in human habits from nomads to settlers, Avebury, constructed around 1000 years later, is evidence of advanced agricultural techniques affording people more time for what might be informally termed ‘dicking about’. After all, why waste your day building a whacking great stone circle when you’ve got hunting and gathering to be doing? A farm full of crops allows attention to be directed elsewhere, from which point a pretty direct line can be drawn through the asking of Who, Why and How towards the building of ceremonial monuments to celebrate the religious beliefs which answered those questions.

The exact purpose of Avebury is, inevitably, unclear. If it was born of rudimentary religious beliefs then theories lean more towards appeasing malevolent spirits rather than praising any kind of bountiful deity. It could have geographical, it could have been a site for funeral ceremonies, it could have been astrological. In truth, for all anyone really knows simply shurgging and saying ‘They just got up to some weird shit in those days’ would be no more or less accurate.

Whatever the reason, people tired of it after around 1000 years and during the Iron Age it was laregly ignored, with locals carrying a vague notion that someone, somewhere must have built it but not really giving much thought as to who or why. In around the 14th century things started picking up again, with villagers’ new-found Christian beliefs apparently leading them to believe the stones had been erected by the Devil and therefore had to go.

So down came the stones, pulled from their millenia-old perches and rolled into nearby pits. This is a shame for the purists because now there are small-ish concrete markers where once stood grand megaliths, but viewed through the prism of rampaging villagers it actually makes things more interesting. Wiltshire, remember, does not do pristine, it does real people. A few years into this process of destruction, one large stone fell and landed on top of a man, believed to have been a barber or surgeon, and crushed him. This, the locals felt, was an act of vengeance from the Devil himself and from that point on they shied away from doing any more of the Lord’s work. The crushed man remained in local folklore as late as the 19th century, although by this point more stones were being torn down for building material.

Today, much like the county’s other ancient monuments, it is viewed as a living temple by practicitioners of modern paganism. Half way around the walk we encountered a tree with assorted ribbons tied to its branches, offerings by visitors who have pilgrimmaged here. Whipping in the wind, the colours seemed incongruous with the rest of the site and we weren’t the only ones to stop and examine them wearing puzzled looks on our faces. Across the road, spiritual offerings are replaced by a goat field, the chewing animals meandering through the ancient stones with all the blank disinterest of an Iron Age villager, gazing up passively as you walk next to them.

Further round it is the village itself which disects the monument. From here you can visit the museum or, in warmer months, the manor house, the recent restoration of which was the subject of a BBC documentary. Alternatively you can simply carry on enjoying the outside, examining the old stones, walking along the bottom of the even older henge, whose grassy walls rise high up on either side. How you explore is your choice, history is yours to do with as you please.

Cost: Free to walk around the circles. Parking £3 for the day or free to National Trust members.