journeys.

Bug's Bottom to Shipnell's Farm, Foxhill to Middle farm, up to Kidmore farm then down to Toker's Green or Dyson's farm or maybe up to Chalkhouse Green and the back route to Emmer Green; Perhaps along to Kidmore end and over fields to Sonning Common, past the Bird in Hand and the route to Dunsden and from there back to Clayfield Copse; Possibly over Binfield Heath and past the stand of houses and past Hurley End, then towards Henley-on Thames; Or possibly just up to Balmore and look out across the broad Thames Valley, bowl of my birth, and think, as ever, of the possiblities and maybes and wherefores of the broad world without, of the lives I have met, or will cross, or will never encounter, and think, yes, there are worlds out there; And, as ever, I resent that I will never live long enough to encounter everything there is, or was, or will be. And here I am, at 39, looking at photos of my parents at my age, and remembering me as a 17-year-old, watching them and considering what it would be like to be their age, and who or what I would be; Now here I am. And of course, there is only ever now, and the fields and folds and paths I have ever and anon walked.