The Rods and the Brie

I told myself, ‘If you want to do something, you may as well do it properly.  If you want to dowse old stuff, why hang about?  You might as well go somewhere where there is a good supply of dowsable Old Stuff.’  So we packed up the tent and had a good long poke about in Brittany, where there is an excellent supply of Old Stuff.  

I have perfected a technique of lurking inconspicuously to one side with rods ready, waiting for other visitors to move away so that I can trundle around undisturbed.  If new people show up, I casually lower the rods and return them to my rucksack.  It is just like being a secret agent.  0053, licensed to wave metal about.  I conceal what I am up to because I do not really know what I am doing.  I do not like to imagine what I could say if anyone spotted me:

Tourist:  Ooh, that looks unusual, are you dowsering?

Rubbish dowser: Er, yeah.

Tourist:  What have you found?

Rubbish dowser: Well, if I walk up here, the rods go like this.

Tourist:  So what does that mean?

Rubbish dowser: No idea, mate.

Tourist:  Do it again, then.

Rubbish dowser: No, I feel stupid if somebody watches me, then it doesn’t work.

Tourist:  You really are rubbish, aren’t you?

Rubbish dowser: ‘Fraid so, yeah.

In Brittany, I continued to find the same reaction from the L rods.  If I walked around a site, the rods would sometimes part, making a straight line.  If I re-trod my steps, the line usually, but not always, appeared in the same place each time.  Sometimes, the rods took a little time to warm up, so I had to walk around once before anything happened.  If I used the Y rod instead, it showed fewer reactions, but I somehow felt more confident that they were true and accurate.

In the quieter sites, I was able to spend more time and note patterns well.  When in busy places, I only had time to develop a sketchy idea before I had to retreat.  Of course, doing this in Brittany has huge advantages.  It is warm enough to stand still for more than five minutes, and the wind does not blow your rucksack off.

A couple of weeks ago, we were walking in the Dales and we came across a wonderfully well preserved Henge.  Unusually for these days, I did not have rods in my rucksack.  I took a good walk round it anyway, while my friends waited indulgently beyond the wall, making the most of a cake snaffling opportunity.  In two places on the perimeter, I felt a tingling sensation in my feet.  Has dowsing so awakened my senses that I can feel lines of energy through a vibram sole?  Or have I developed an overactive imagination?