An old man lives at the bottom of my garden. His name is Robert Barkus, or Bakehouse, or Bagust. Nobody is quite sure. But I often sense him around when I’m gardening, and I’ve found out a fair bit ab

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Meanderings we couldn’t fit into the issue, but which seemed terribly important at the time...

(whatever your budget!)

Even the smallest, quietest places have stories to tell, and they are best told on foot. Like the one in this small, quiet place in the East Midlands, which forged the most honest war writer of them all.

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