Today in the stress of moving class I remember a day quite recently when I hankered for some space and greenery and two hours later I found myself lying on the grass, under an old oak tree in the beautiful serenity of the Kent countryside. I could feel the heat on my legs as the sun burnt down and I watched the whispy fragile clouds drift on with no seeming purpose. A pair of swallows dipped and dived over me, my own personal acrobatic display, and over on the cricket pitch two young boys kicked a ball repeatedly against the old clubhouse. bang. bang. bang.
