NATURE

From early childhood I was surrounded by flora, nature at its wildest stage. We had a vast back garden that was untamed. There were fruit bushes galore: gooseberry, redcurrant, blackcurrant, raspberries and loganberries. There were also several trees: pear, apple, crabapple and plum. At the tender age of four I was despatched to the wilderness, armed with an enamel bowl. I was instructed by my mother to pick fruit from the bushes for my mother's pies and tarts. I remember vividly the taste of the luscious fruit.

I enjoyed fighting my way through large patches of weeds and getting entangled within them. My little arms and legs were covered with scarlet angry lumps, the results of brushing against stinging nettles.

When I was old enough to venture climbing, I went up the giant pear tree - my favourite. I would straddle a particularly sturdy branch, sit there and read my favoured books. The foliage, rich and green fell about me like a canopy, making an isolated den. If I wanted to be alone, up I would go: also if I was sulking I would stay up there until my mood changed. Our wild garden was a haven to me and I spent many hours of my childhood and teen years in it, listening to the beautiful leaves murmuring in the breeze and the birds singing; the succulent aroma of the fruit pervaded my whole being. Those were halcyon days indeed. I have never been so close to nature again since I left that house in 1961.