poliphilo

Ailz was going through papers looking for tax documents and found a letter I'd written home from school when I was 14. I'd been on a orienteering exercise over the weekend- and, yes, I remember it well- the emerging view from the hill as the mist burned off, the trespassing that got us arrested by a farmer and eventually sacked from The Duke of Edinburgh's Award Scheme- but what I'd written about to my parents (in my laboured, neo-Edwardian prose) was an incident I'd totally forgotten. My compadre and I had been walking down a lane in the mirk when a voice hailed us from a hedgerow. "It's cold and dark," it said. Weird. Inexplicable. We lost our bottle and set off across country to avoid it. Afterwards an older boy who had been organizing the exercise owned up to being the ghostly ambusher. Didn't we feel like fools!

Now that's it's been jogged my memory insists it hadn't forgotten really, just misplaced the information, but I don't believe it.