Unlike my village, Woodcote has a bus-stop and a bench which is the centre of the local nightlife. As I’m walking the three miles back along the A4074, I find a damp, badly printed magazine in a lay-by. The images of men and women are so confusing and exciting that I’m unsure what to do with my find. Before I enter the gates of my lane – I remember the rabbit holes behind the uprooted tree and push the folded magazine down into the warm, dry earth.
When I return, I reach as far as I can into the hole but the magazine is gone.