BE HOME BEFORE IT GETS DARK...

I was always a loner. Although happy to play with other kids I always enjoyed my own company, and still do.

The house I lived in as a kid, was surrounded by fields and, in the distance, heathery hills, which, in summer, were an absolute heaven for a young boy with an imagination. Packing-up a paper bag full of jam sandwiches and a bottle of pop, Dandelion and Burdock was my favourite, I would set off, climb over the barbed-wire fence that separated my house from the fields and head off into an unfolding adventure.

Never told my mum or anyone else where I was going, for the simple reason I never knew, and on the very few occasions that I did, the only answer was "be home before it gets dark." Imagine any young kid doing that nowadays? But let's not talk about the present the past is much more interesting.

Now the first obstacle in my path were the cows! Dozens of them and weren't they big, or was I small? Although a very docile animal they were always steered clear of as much as possible, as were the large piles of muck that they produced, (the first time my mother told me to "watch the cows clap" I had a mental image of a herd of cows lining up and applauding me with their front hooves as I walked past), although this wasn't always successful and my shoes, my only shoes,
usually had an odour of cow about them. Pity the mums of today that have to clean the modern kids-shoes which have soles with a network of ridges which take days to clean - but let's not talk about the present the past is much more interesting.

Just reached the first field fence and, being too lazy to walk to the stile, I always climbed over the barbed-wire fence. One day I left my finger behind on a barb which curtailed instantly that days adventure and resulted in a long tearful walk with mum to the doctor's surgery. I still, when in a pensive mood, trace the outline of the scar with my thumb nail and think back to those days.

In "those days" many of the field boundary fences still had lots of trees within them, remnants of the early field systems. They had many uses, for cows to ease an itch with, birds to nest in, for young lads to prove how brave they were by climbing to the top(yes I do admit I had a birds egg collection), but most usefully they gave shelter, to both man and beast, from the rain and sun. On many an occasion this fence would be the limit of my days excursion, for it would start raining and I would take shelter, eat my jam sandwiches, drink my Dandelion and Burdock, and then run home. Can never remember wearing a raincoat!

Today is bright and sunny, the first fence has been successfully negotiated and things are looking good. A bit peckish so munching on a jam sandwich, also a bit thirsty so sipping at my pop, on many an expedition I would have to resort to "bush meat" to sustain me throughout the day swilled down with beck water.
These journeys of discovery really did last all day, for I have now been gone from home over an hour and only reached the second fence. But the "second fence" was an important milestone on my journey for it was here that I got my first sight of "The Beck"!! I would usually spend time leaning on the fence to take in all the delights of the beck as it wound its sinuous weaving course through the fields until it disappeared with a sensual motion into the tunnel under the railway line.

"The Beck", every boy's delight, not very deep, not very wide, but a thing of great beauty, with its flower-coated banks, the rare incandescent blue flash of a Kingfisher, the shoals of tiddlers, the lone Bull-head, which we would spend hours trying to catch and then take home in a jam jar. The cows lazily chewing the grass along the banks and wading in for a much needed, satisfying drink. With luck you would spy a Heron standing rock still in the water, patiently waiting for its lunch to come swimming unwarily by. This section of the beck was very slow moving and was never very clean, but there were no qualms about taking off shoes and socks, and in very hot summers everything else, and paddling in the cool water. Hours could be passed looking under stones for strange looking insects that would dart away as their shelter was invaded.

Time to move on, the shadow of the lone oak tree in the field by the beck is shortening, and there are many miles to walk, and many things to see and do before I have to turn around to make sure I am "...home before it's dark".

Being a bit peckish I munch on a jam sandwich and swill it down with Dandelion and Burdock.

Through the tunnel under the railway I arrive at the main road, the frontier of the wilderness that lay ahead of me. Once negotiated I was then alone. Alone to pick my wits against whatever nature may throw at me, but I was up for it, for no one would see if I was afraid or frightened unless they saw the dried tear stains under my eyes.

I am now Jungle Jim, ahead is a long meandering track up through the fields heading towards the hills. There are wild beasts on every side of me and I have to hack my way through the undergrowth(hope the farmer doesn't see me in his meadow). A brief respite at a watering hole, a quick drink out of a trough as I sped through a farmyard. I was never happy about walking through farmyards. They are full of so many hidden dangers, dogs that bite, farmers that shout, cows that clap(thank you, you are so kind), geese that hiss et al.

Now been gone from home for four hours. Time for lunch. Munching on my last jam sandwich and swilling it down with my last drop of Dandelion and Burdock I take stock of the day so far. It's nice and sunny. Managed to get over the barbed-wire fence unscathed. Didn't fall in the beck. Got applauded by cows just for walking through a field. A good day so far.

Not far to go now, my journeys end, the wood in the dell. A mysterious wood full of rustles, cries and shadows. This is the place where, to my shame in later life, I collected birds eggs. Every boy had a birds egg collection, kept in a wooden box stuffed with cotton wool. This is the place I collected my other scar. It's three inches long on the left hand side of my stomach. I climbed to the top of a tall tree where a bird's nest could be seen, put my hand inside the nest and a young bird bit me. I fell down the tree gashing my side as I fell "...which curtailed instantly that day's adventure and resulted in a long tearful walk with mum to the doctor's surgery".

I am now Robin Hood, I have my trusty bow and my band of merry men.
Deer are killed, The Sheriff of Nottingham is captured and held to ransom and I steal a kiss off Maid Marion.

I am now tired and, I must admit, a bit scared, the day has suddenly started to go dark and the wood in the dell is now a frightening place.

All my jam sandwiches are gone, my bottle of Dandelion and Burdock is empty. I want to go home "...before it gets dark".