Holding it, he felt like a Big Chief – although in fact, he was only six. He ran through the leafy grounds of Sulgrave Manor, his family home, hollering Apache-style and scaring the bejeezus out of squirrels. This was his tribal territory, and he was master of it – a fearsome scout. Nothing moved here without his knowledge. The comings and goings of his family; their visitors; the servants; the workers in the fields – he would watch them in secret from one of his hide-out trees. The people, the animals, the buildings and fields – why, it seemed to be a perfect corner of God’s kingdom. Everybody and everything seemed to have its place, its role, and yet some things seemed … less equal than others. As a six-year-old boy he was painfully aware of this. Although he was his father’s son, he was still low down the pecking order. People talked over his head as though he wasn’t there! His hair was ruffled, his cheek was pinched fondly, an old lady would give him a sweet, a man would bounce him on his knee, but he felt like he was some kind of pet.
What do You think about Oxfordshire Folktales (2012)?
