by Annie Mitchel

Created on: May 14, 2009   Last Updated: May 16, 2009

Being the baby of the pack was often an advantage. Older siblings willing, I got to be taken by them on special outings that only children have time to partake in. Also, I would be allowed along on trips that fitted into a secret agenda that adults don't know about. With hindsight, I realise now that the offer to 'take Ann for a walk' had many guises.

One of our more challenging trips would be to Hagg Wood, which lies well outside of the village. I am not sure that mother was not necessarily too keen on the idea, but doubtless, with a bit of persuasion and the thought of having a child-free house for a couple of hours, she would agree to it on the proviso that the pushchair was taken for me. Obviously, I was far too old for the pushchair, which was a large, grey Silver Cross affair - more akin to a chariot than anything else. But we would take it for the quiet life and so we three would set off.

Going to the bottom of the garden, through the gate and along Back Lane, past the little row of council houses, would be our shortest route. Here we could either cross Common Lane into Water Lane, thereby passing the house where father was born, or carry straight on along Common Lane before taking a left into Intake Lane. Going via Water Lane was slightly longer and although we loved to look at father's original house, nudging each other and whispering lest we should be overheard as we passed by, Aunty May lived in Water Lane. If our little troop were seen going by, she would surely want to take us into her kitchen for a glass of milk and impede our mission by talking for too long. And so we would gladly get ourselves to the start of Intake Lane, because this is where the journey really began. After a smattering of houses, the lane was all ours and we skipped and hopped along it until we reached its conclusion some half a mile further along.

By the time we got to the woods, I was all but exhausted and of course we couldn't use the pushchair once inside anyway. Not that our entry to the woods was straight-forward as the access was less than obvious.

Mother, when she took us, would always go through the farmyard which seemed to stand in between us and the woods. Now that we were trusted to go on our own, we were always nervous that this was the right thing to do.

'Are you sure that's the way?' we would check with mother.

'Yes, why ever not?'

'Because it doesn't look like it,' we replied.

And so sometimes, we would try and get into the woods via

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