Somewhere, in deepest rural Norfolk, there is a small wood. This is not just any wood, it's a special wood, a wood that hasn't been trodden in (by human's) for over ten thousand years.
It was missed when William The Conqueror's loyal scribes' catalogued England in the eleventh century and has remained un-owned by any human ever since. Actually, even the Romans missed it.
Before they came along with their big toga's and hobnail boots, humans had more important things to worry about than the ownership of a little wood in deepest Norfolk.
You may be wondering how I come to know about it then?
Well, only by accident, really!

I was exploring the farmland and lanes around my home town of Hummersby on my loyal mobility scooter Hetty one day, when we rounded a corner and collided with a slow moving, fridge!
We had no time to wonder why, or how, the fridge came to be blocking our path. We were instantly pelted with a tar-aide of elfish abuse which did nothing to alleviate Hetty's broken front axle.

From that moment, we found that we had entered another world. A world very different from ours; and yet, perhaps it was OUR world that was different, not this one!
Maybe WE had just inadvertently collided with the real world. After all, unlike ours, this one hadn't changed for thousands of years.
OR HAD IT!

This is the beginning of my new scribble!
copyright - R. Chamberlain