16.
display letter writing and in construction and manning
of the displays themselves.
Ron Allen
A FORGOTTEN CORNER OF THE PARISH
February 21st of 1974 was mild and sunny, and in the
afternoon I took my binoculars for a walk between
Loughton and Abridge in the Roding Valley. It can 
usually be relied upon to provide at least one or two 
interesting sights and sounds of birds. This occasion
was no exception, and towards sundown I had disturbed a
pair of sparrow hawks who wheeled with rounded wing
towards a couple of wide-branched oaks, uttering their
harsh, accusative "quruahloo, kroo-ahloo" for a full
two or three minutes. I returned well pleased in the
early onset of dusk, and was walking along the edge of
a ploughed field which I had previously noted as possibly
worth a pause on account of its geology. I had no
intention of stopping just then, but was surprised to
see what I took for a "Mum-Dad-Son-Daughter" group,
somewhat scattered, heads down, occasionally bending
down to pop something into a paper bag. Despite my
hurry a sudden impulse halted me, and I turned back to
satisfy my curiosity. That was eighteen months ago and
the pattern of my leisure interests has been fundamen-
tally altered since that brief encounter.
The family were not collecting pebbles as I had suspected
but small fragments of glass and pottery. While we
talked the little girl showed me a piece she had just
picked up, and I was so intrigued that she handed it to 
me. On, in what I took to be handsome eighteenth century
lettering, was inscribed "Abrid", which might reasonably
be taken to be part of the name of nearby Abridge.
The incident could have ended there but my interest was
set alight, and I determined there and then to adopt
these bare acres as if they were my own. Admittedly I
have felt a little like the man who confided "I have
been shooting with Lord Blank these past twenty years,