Poor old Harry Jackman! He didn’t like us cutting through his fields. We used to wait for him to milk his cows, and when we knew he was milking, we used to whip through and up to the copse.  One day we came out the copse, all laughing and joking, Mick Morton, Les Jupe, Barry Mcdonald  and  me. We said, he never caught us today. When we got down to the big gate by the railway he was stood just there.
‘Got you!’  he said, ‘got you, all of you.’
‘Hello Mr Jackman,’ I said.
‘You can go home. I know where you live.’  Brian Pomroy b 1938