Being taught on a taut line......

Wandering the various paths of the forest called Epping, I rapidly realized that, despite his age, young Bing had, by dint of his noble breeding, rapidly committed to memory the tracks that criss-cross this famous plot. For even when we are travelling fresh ground, he appears, by sixth sense, to have a fair inkling of where we are and what may occur next!

I cite as an example, an event that occurred once upon a stroll, as we trundled along in our usual manner, him up ahead sweeping from left to right and back, hooter oscillating, while I puffed along behind as fleetly as I could.

Frankly, Bing’s opinion of my tardy perambulations in his wake, would fill more than this brief page. Therefore, let us draw a veil over that observation, and pass on to other events - merely observing that young B’s muted grumbling and occasion eye rolling in my direction are sufficient barbs for an old codger like me.

We were just reaching the crest of an incline, when the lad dropped into a crouching position, as if he were about to leap onto an unsuspecting squeaky pill. I stood still, and within moments two horses and their riders appeared from a path over to our right. A bird flew up from the bracken, but neither horses or Bingo moved. I was just about to mutter something like ‘what a fine pair of chestnuts’ when the boy rose and wandered over to them. Being at somewhat of a distance, I couldn’t quite make out the conversation taking place.  After some seconds the horses nodded and trotted off across our chosen path and the lad padded back to me.

‘Very interesting aged guv, those ponies were asking directions for the ‘Lost Pond’ so you can imagine I was mighty pleased to be able to put ‘em right.’

‘Ah so those were ponies not horses then?’

‘Coo, you aint arf a townie aint yer old wheezer?’

Remembering my couple of rather shoddy efforts at horse riding many decades ago, I was apt to agree with him. AND what if I am a townie…..I’m very proud of dear old London, and we can’t all be cowboys, or jockey’s....and so forth.

‘You’re daydreaming again.’ The lad observed.

‘Well yes I suppose I am, it’s a problem I’ve had since I was a boy myself.’

‘Paws!’

‘Whats that?’

‘Paws or in your case Hands….that’s how you tell the difference old Puffin!’

I started to grin and prepared to deliver my little quip…..

‘Surely they have hooves not paws…eh….ha ha!’

The lad cocked his head and peered at me – frankly for one so young, there are times when our roles become reversed, and it is I who am left with the feeling - he teaches me far more than I can ever teach him.

But then a dandelion clock exploded in a sudden breeze, and the young chap bounced in various directions attempting to catch the floating seeds…..and life - delightfully, returned to normal.

Well almost.