BY ANNEWORLE | PUBLISHED JUN 12 2015
Old Places and Faces
It doesn’t matter how many years ago I left. It doesn’t even matter that I have now lived ‘somewhere else’ for more years than I ever lived ‘back there’. Going back to the Welsh border country, with its black and white villages and cider orchards, is still ‘going home’.
And I am blessed! Because most of the old crew are still there – exactly where I left them! In this predominantly agricultural part of England the only thing that has changed is that the Young Farmers I went to school with are now running their Dads farms and their kids are the new Young Farmers (how can I not have got older….and yet this has happened??)
So, on the day, off we set. Me and Daphne. Just like in the Old Days. Except, somehow, whilst my back was turned, Daphne had got to be Auntie Daphne and answerable to Holly the Niece. And Holly the Niece was in charge of catering and my Partner in Crime had been enlisted into the Domestic Goddessary Department.
This left me free to do what I do best….go and find the boys.
And in my world – if you want boys – you look for tractors. And, sure as eggs are eggs, there were tractors!
And they were arriving in droves , this latest generation of Young Farmers. Young Farmers on the old tractors of Young Farmers long gone.
And, in among them, the Old Farmers were reminiscing about when they were Young Farmers. And the days when the old tractors were new tractors.
And a certain photographer was desperately trying to place someone she knew…..
(er…. no she didn’t…. she used to hang out with his Dad! OMG – how can this be happening!)
And the Young Farmers of the future were learning that happiness is a grey Sunday spent in a tractor cab!
…so, all in all, a fairly well assorted bunch of miscreants about to terrorize the highways, byways and green lanes of Herefordshire!
And as they came through the woods you couldn’t help but recognise how time moves on:-
That things evolve and there is nothing that we can do about it.
But time marching forward is not always such a bad thing. Because if time didn’t move on we would have no old friends. And it takes a long time to grow an old friend……especially the cranky variety.