A few years ago, an old lady who had lived in our house as a child came to visit. I showed her around the house and in each room she clasped her hands together and sighed "You've got a radiator in here." Our house could never be described as a warm house – the ceilings are high and the wind whistles under the doors – but before central heating it must have been bitterly cold. Then she asked if the wild watercress still grows by Horse Pasture and I was pleased to tell her, that yes, it still grows in the same place seventy years later. I didn't tell her that the children called that corner of the field The Humming Wires, as it's under the high voltage electricity line that buzzes in damp weather. Horse Pasture sounds so much better.
Along the same stretch of the field, everything is bursting into life.
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