Assarts Farm, Meden Vale
No doubt this will come as a huge surprise to "Yorkshire Pudding" visitors but I confess that I made up the Robin Hood story. Guilty your honour. It was all a product of my fecund imagination. My apologies to all those readers I deceived but in my defence I would say two things.
Firstly, there is a sense in which all fiction is deception - great big lies. Ironically, though creative writers habitually seek to unveil truths, the means by which they do that include craftiness, falsehood and trumpery. My Robin Hood lie is no different from any other.
Secondly, I did go to Market Warsop on Monday and I did venture into the forest, enjoying the cool shade of the trees on a summer's day we must have borrowed from South East Asia. So hot and clammy.
The River Meden
A funny thing happened when I returned to Cherry Grove off Sherwood Street. As is my wont, I was leaning upon Clint's hatchback boot (American: trunk) changing out of my trusty walking boots into my driving shoes when a thirty something young woman emerged from the nearby house and called over her garden.
"Are you all right duckie?"
She was talking to me.
"Yes fine thank you! I have just been on a long walk and I'm changing out of my boots. Very kind of you to ask though!"
And we smiled at each other and raised hands of friendship. By the way, in Nottinghamshire the nouns "duck" and "duckie" are commonly used as social terms of endearment just as in Sheffield the term "love" is widely used when addressing strangers. You won't hear these friendly terms in London or anywhere else that is Down South.
Abandoned chicken farm near Meden Vale
After my eight or nine mile walk I headed back to Sheffield ready to make Nurse Pudding's evening meal so I did not have to invent excuses for staying out all night eating wild boar and carousing with outlaws in Sherwood Forest. Quite simply, it didn't happen! I made it up.