While helping my father create an account of his childhood during the second world war we spent Boxing Day morning walking around the village taking reference photographs to illustrate his memories.
The snow was still heavy on the ground and although there were a few people out walking it was very quiet – we headed downhill along a path between two fields populated by friendly horses aiming for the small wooded area known locally as Church Wood. It was here that my father saw the doodlebug explode in 1944.
We followed the slippery path down into the wood, we were suprised at what we found there.
The ice and snow had transformed this site of wartime devestation into a magical experience that lifted us from the strange feelings that the Christmas break produces.
We wandered around taking photographs we totally lost ourselves in the experience, It still remains the most memorable time of my visit home.