a walk to the Witham, field edging like children, under the skylark sky…

Once we found old Water Lane, we made our way in moments to fields and a walk in the country. Birdsong, ducks on the water, a riverbank sunset across yellow fields. A scramble over a pallet bridge laid across the beck and back past playgrounds, Fen Lane, to the Green where the funfair has decided to try its luck for another week after the rains of last weekend. 

This a village by all the old measures. This its heart…

But then, the other way, along Moor Lane, there is the rumble of the big Newark Road and the miles of ribbon developments, blurring any sense of centre… Which is the truer ‘heart’ of this place? How do they sit with each other? Where do they meet?

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