There is so much to say about megalithic tombs: of their function, carbon dating, about morphological typologies, and catchment areas. I could tell you about function and materiality, about labour and material costs. I could tell you about the magic that is phenomenology in recreating the prehistoric mind. At the top, there is an audio with a little about what megalithic tombs are, their landscapes and the Neolithic world. The few terms I’ve given above give an idea of what to look up later, ideas that I will try to expand on in my own blog where I have more scope to divert from our main focus: the folklore of stones, and their stories of giants and fairies. Here, I will focus solely on the stories that have been told about megaliths throughout the ages before scientific analysis unlocked their secrets for us, conjuring some of the magic that gives a tingle in the fingers when touching the cold stones of a megalith for the first time, secreted away in hidden outcrops that are often unseen, invisible to the modern world as life moves on around it. I’ll show you a glimpse of the wonder that I, personally, feel when I lie on the cold stones and ponder all the people, all the lives, that have been touched by this stark, lonely form, jutting out of the landscape as a symbol of memory, of identity, of endurance, that has crawled into the minds of those who look on it, a feeling of reaching out to touch the past that you can never shake once you have known a megalith, learned its secrets, studied its stones and gazed on its carvings in wonder, reaching out to learn the secrets of old minds.