Memories of a forked oak, from David Edwick.

There was a forked oak tree in the rather small garden of 32 The Drive, Morden, Surrey where I spent my early years. It was about 8ft to the fork and maybe 12ft more for each side, with strong branches near the top that made a great perch for good climbers. We were allowed to the fork, but our neighbour used to rush round and tell tales when she spotted us any higher, as it overhung Dad’s greenhouse. It also gave us access on the other side to the tin roof of my uncles large shed, whihc left tar on ourr knees! We had a tyre swing for many years and Dad, who ran a firm with steeplejacks, once showed us how to rig a bosun’s chair from it. I hope it is still there…

One of the other arboreal delights of my childhood was the ‘tree walk’. Perhaps planted as a hedge, of lime probably, it stretched the length of the back access lane to a row of shops. A generation of children before mine had bent branches across from trunk to trunk about 4ft off the ground so that you could walk the length of a block in secret – well, in summer at least!