Saturday, 6 February 2016


This is the view I know most, riding through yellow fields of oilseed rape, or wheat, or bluebells.

I had a different type of wildness as a teenager. It wasn't drinking at the park, or sneaking around the corners with this or that boy. My wildness was in forests, across fields, and through solitude. I jumped trees, raced deer and trespassed like a highwayman. And never alone. I hope that when I have children they will have the same chances. 

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