Hedges, Lanes and a River.

There was a lot of lanes, and a lot of walking in the lanes.

High hedges hedged the lanes, we walked between the hedges, along the lanes and we ended up in the pub.

There was a river too.

We walked along the river.

Up to the weir.

Where we fished.

Lanes, pubs, hedges, river and fishing.

We crossed the fields to reach the river, climbing one stile and jumping one ditch.

In the river there were pike, though we never caught one.

The river was clear.

Clean.

The lanes were clear, no cars.

And clean.

The hedges were high.

High, clear and clean – you couldn’t see beyond.

Beyond were the fields, the stile, the river, the pike.

And the bailiff.

He only caught us once.

And then we ran.

We were young.

Young enough to run, too young to be in the pub.

But no one cared.

Would we go back?

You bet!