YOUR WALK, YOUR PACE
Glastonbury: The Search for Avalon
5 stops · 8 min of narration · 2.1 km
Narration language: English
STOP 1 / 5
St John's churchyard, High Street
Start in the churchyard of Saint John's, off the High Street. Just inside, on the left, grows a small thorn tree. It looks unremarkable. In spring it flowers like any hawthorn. Then, near Christmas, it flowers again. This odd double blooming is at the heart of one of Glastonbury's best-known traditions.
Photo credits
File:A Glastonbury Thorn, St John the Baptist, Glastonbury, Somerset.jpg · Rosser1954 · CC BY-SA 4.0; attribution required. / sourceTap a numbered stop to hear its story.
Listen & look closer
Start in the churchyard of Saint John's, off the High Street. Just inside, on the left, grows a small thorn tree. It looks unremarkable. In spring it flowers like any hawthorn. Then, near Christmas, it flowers again. This odd double blooming is at the heart of one of Glastonbury's best-known traditions.
In the legend, Joseph of Arimathea, the rich man who gave his tomb for Jesus, landed here with twelve followers when this was an island in the marshes. Exhausted, he climbed the hill you can see from this churchyard, thrust his staff into the ground, and slept. By morning, the staff had taken root.
That is the telling the abbey itself keeps. By the fifteen-thirties, three such thorns stood on Wearyall Hill, flowering at Easter and at Christmas, until soldiers cut one down and locals saved the cuttings. The abbey believes every tree you see today, here and in the abbey grounds, grows from those cuttings. And each Christmas, the vicar and the mayor cut a sprig from this churchyard tree and send it to the sovereign.
Transcript
Start in the churchyard of Saint John's, off the High Street. Just inside, on the left, grows a small thorn tree. It looks unremarkable. In spring it flowers like any hawthorn. Then, near Christmas, it flowers again. This odd double blooming is at the heart of one of Glastonbury's best-known traditions.
In the legend, Joseph of Arimathea, the rich man who gave his tomb for Jesus, landed here with twelve followers when this was an island in the marshes. Exhausted, he climbed the hill you can see from this churchyard, thrust his staff into the ground, and slept. By morning, the staff had taken root.
That is the telling the abbey itself keeps. By the fifteen-thirties, three such thorns stood on Wearyall Hill, flowering at Easter and at Christmas, until soldiers cut one down and locals saved the cuttings. The abbey believes every tree you see today, here and in the abbey grounds, grows from those cuttings. And each Christmas, the vicar and the mayor cut a sprig from this churchyard tree and send it to the sovereign.
No linked places for this stop yet.
Narration uses a synthetic voice. Places, routes and stories are researched, with sources and photo credits available in each tour.