The Hiding Place

A Memory of Yattendon.

When I was ten years old this old tree was a delight. Ancient and hollow inside, we children were able to crawl inside while mother did her shopping. We watched people pass on their way to and from the blacksmith, the grocer or the butcher, firmly believing they had no idea we were there.  If we were lucky we would have been bought an ice lolly or a sweet to eat in the tree.  It was often thought by visitors that it was an oak because of the eponymous pub in the Square.  It was, I think, an elm.
Now the tree is long gone, replaced by something small but with nice seats around on a paved area where villagers can rest in the shade.