Extollagy!

Halfway between long barrow and Temple of Ra, the Myceanan Tholos is the perfect place to witness the achievements of the ancient Middle East as they inch their way into Europe. For this very reason what we know of it’s rich decoration — zigzags and other motifs in bright colours and decorative stones – is instructive; yet what survives is gargantuanly well cut passage into a massive geometrically fierce door within a massive artificial mound, hard on the hillfort acropolis between its twin hills, overlooking the fertile plain.

It’s closed, so I leap the fence, and find myself faced alone by this hammer-first walkway, and alone again in the colossal dark dome — once bright with bronzes — within. A stamp on the floor makes sharp echoes crack all around me: and shocks something else into life. Within seconds the shadow-filled space is filled with a single-minded buzzsaw burr, its ferocity amplified by its own echo, and I stand transfixed — and then leave with quiet rapidity — for the silent space has filled with swarming bees.