On Sunday I got the bus up to Werrington, where I was brought up. At the time we lived there it was still a village on the edge of Stoke-on-Trent, across the road was a track leading to the moors, and there were lanes into rather unremarkable countryside. It was grey and clay. Now there are large estates and a feeling of suburb, but go down Salter’s Lane and Clough Lane and it drops back into the wet farmland I remember with no great features. I wasn’t there to find some sort of enchanted childhood, but found a few gates, rather different than those where I live now. It was a grey chilly day which as soon as I got on the bus home turned into a beautiful sunny afternoon!