THE OLD FOREST

You might be out walking in the woods near Aconbury in Herefordshire, and find yourself wandering off the path because you want to try and get closer to the bird that’s making that unusual call that you can’t place. The more you pick your way through the undergrowth the less certain you are which direction the bird is in. First it seems to come from the left, then in front, then even behind you.
Perhaps there is more than one, you think.
You realise that you have no idea which way to go back to the path, so you just walk on. A few steps later you find yourself in a clearing the size of a car, surrounded by twisting trees whose leaves whisper and shuffle. The air feels so clean and fresh here you pause to breath it in, and it is like a refreshing drink of cold water on a hot day. The grass in the clearing is soft like a carpet, and so inviting you consider lying down so the trees can whisper you to sleep. Don’t though. Keep going and find your way back to the car. If you sleep here, you will sleep a long, long time.
This is the last of the Old Forest. You may have seen on TV that in pre-medieval times a man might ride for days without leaving a forest, or read articles about Britain’s original rainforest, surprising though that phrase sounds, but this is much, much older than any of those.
It is much, much older than almost anything.