Growing old disgracefully

By GOD

COPSE

Our local landscape is littered with copses atop little knolls. 

When I was little I read stories that featured copses and knolls, but I had no idea what they were,  mainly because there were no such things in our landscape in the Hebrides. I was forced to invent my own definitions.  I can't recall what I believed a copse to be, other than a remote phenomenon inhabited by the weird,  Enid Blyton characters that wore plimsoles, were called 'Tufty' and had Uncles called Bill who had never heard of child protection.   

We walked among the copses today until the pheromones were sufficiently released and then repaired to the Hub Cafe for a sandwich.  'Jolly, what!' as Tufty might have said. 

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