Standing stones and circles have always exercised a strange attraction for me. Back in the mists of time – no, not that far back, but when I was at art school, we visited a number of sites in Derbyshire, including the famous Arbor Low. I was hooked – by the monumental strangeness of the megaliths themselves, their harmonious relationship with the landscape and the general spookiness of what one imagined took place at these sites.

I read, and was thoroughly convinced by, View Over Atlantis – sold on its message that ancient man possessed knowledge, insights and powers that we have since lost.

I’ve grown up a lot since then. I tried to re-read the book and found it embarrassingly new age, intellectually flaky and entirely unconvincing. But the stones still exert some kind of power over me, something I’d been ignoring.

We now live in rural Normandy. There are menhirs and dolmens everywhere. Our friends, just down the road, have a standing stone in their field. There’s another a few hundred metres from the supermarket where we do our weekly shop. So this is my new personal project – to document and explore the stones and their relationship to the landscape.