Aim, Shoot, oh do fly, Wood Pigeon Pie.

Cripsey Bridge, Moreton

The halcyon days of childhood, those five or so years between the ages of five and ten seem, looking back, a forgotten age of innocence. Summers were endless days of blue skies, fields shimmered in a golden haze, whilst winter nights drew us in, and we roasted chestnuts over an open fire and woke up to fields cloaked in white. Really? Perhaps not – but then sometimes it’s better to leave the past behind us, just remembering the good things. Continue reading “Aim, Shoot, oh do fly, Wood Pigeon Pie.”