Thursday, May 1, 2008
That’s a rock in a Welsh garden. The owner’s niece was out playing and came into the house to ask who the man in the garden was. The girl’s aunt didn’t see a man, but she did see the face of Elvis Presley on the slab of slate. This story comes from icWales.co.uk, and even goes so far as to link Elvis to this area in Wales. But first, the rock.
The owner has asked to remain anonymous, concerned that swarms of fans would otherwise descend on her property, disrupting the bucolic tranquility. Apparently, she has already been offered close to $2,000 for the rock, but even though she is not a big fan of Elvis’s music, she has become attached to the iconic visual manifestation.
Bought as an ornament, the owner of the stone says that the image was not there at first. It took six months for the face to appear. In her words: “We left it alone, imagining it would disappear as quickly as it had come, but that hasn’t happened. It’s still there.”
According to the article, a whole body of academic research already exists linking Elvis’s familial lineage to this western portion of Wales that sits in the shadows of the . . . Preseli mountains! Apparently Druids used rocks from this area for Stonehenge.
Here’s what the article says:
Cardiff academic Terry Breverton claimed in 2000 to have new evidence that Elvis’ ancestors came from Wales, citing the link between the names Presley and Preseli.
Supporting his theory was the legend of St Elvis of Munster, who apparently baptised St David. Mr Breverton claimed the Presley family could well have had links with a Pembrokeshire chapel dedicated to St Elvis, the only one known in Britain.
And he pointed to the Welsh names of Elvis’ mother Gladys, his stillborn brother, Jesse Garon and his grandmother Doll Mansell, who may be descended from the famous Mansel family of Gower.
So, has Elvis returned to his roots? Think he’s thirsty for a Jesus cider?
The Daily Mail reports that Michael Cartwright, a taxi driver from Darlington, was at Tanners Hall, his local pub, with some mates when the “barmaid” brought the group’s drinks to the table. As soon as she popped the top off Cartwright’s bottle, the face of Jesus puckered up in the foil. His buddies saw it, too. And the barmaid must have as well, as she cleared the bottles, leaving Cartwright with nothing more than memories and a tummy full of cider.
Bully for you United Kingdom! I downed many pints of lager in London a few weeks ago, but I didn’t see Jesus, Elvis or many barmaids. In Madonna of the Toast, there are several stories from the UK, including an Oscar fish from Allah, a Michelin Man carrot and the face of Rasputin in a cat’s ear. You’ll have to buy the book to see those!