Forgive us our Trespasses

They were not meant to be cordial. The farmer was obviously more than a little annoyed, that two middle-aged walkers had managed to breach his high security fence, designed to keep out the masses of deer in the local woods. Well we had. There was no denying it.

It all began as a pleasant circular walk round Battle. As the day progressed, we realised time was getting short, so on entering some woodland we decided to take a shortcut using a compass. This works alright in open moorland, but less well in woodland. Puffing and grunting, we eventually made it to the edge of the wood, only to have a taste of what it must be like for Syrian refugees trying to escape across Europe. Before us stood an 8-foot high fence.

The thick brambles made further woodland walking nigh impossible. So more in hope than expectation we struck out alongside the fence, looking for a possible opening in our iron curtain. Spotting a place where a badger must have forced its way under the wire, I somehow was able to force head and shoulders through the self-same gap. Within a couple of minutes, coats, bags and a very muddy looking Frances had joined me.

Our euphoria soon passed. The only way out was going to be along a farm track to the main road. As we rounded a corner, before us was a man in a large digger. I expected a dog, or even a shotgun, but thought a large digger was a bit over the top for dealing with trespassers.

As we approached, the digger driver emerged and posed his question “How did you get over my stock fence?”

I could see it was time to eat some humble pie “We were lost in the woods and found a place where a badger must have squeezed under”.

This seemed to placate him a bit. Perhaps it reassured him that at least we hadn’t cut a hole through it. For some reason I could hear the theme tune to The Great Escape, playing in my subconscious. Perhaps he thought we had jumped over using a motor-bike?

But not even Steve McQueen had managed that!

“Where have you parked?” He asked.

“Nowhere” I replied, “we live in Battle”.

His whole demeanour suddenly changed. A bit of pleasant chit-chat about the weather and a final apology from us and we were on our way. Amazing!

I wonder, does being a local trump the sins of trespass? Most walkers do prefer to follow footpaths, but of course there will always be the occasional rotten apple who has the temerity to wriggle under an 8-foot high deer-fence.

Please - Forgive us our Trespasses.