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Hunting Country

When I was ten, a man cut off a fox’s tail and used it smear blood on my face. I had been ‘blooded’: a hunting rite of passage.

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A Cotswolds vantage

Old Walterbush Farm lies at the highest point of my walk. At 750 feet above sea level it’s where the rolling waves of the Cotswold landscape finally crest before flowing out eastwards

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