This walk properly starts at the corner of Chestnut Avenue and Storth Lane, and as I typed that, I wondered who was this man, to have a Lane named after him?   Mr Storth?   Sir George Storth, perhaps?   Farmer Storth?   Storth the milkman?    I wished I had thought to ask years ago – someone may have known!

In a north easterly direction from this junction – even junction seems too grand a word for the meeting of two small streets – runs, or ran, a wide track to a high wooden bridge which spanned the railway to the west of Kiveton Bridge station.   That track is probably now paved, as it is the approach road to Wales Comprehensive School .   The bridge was high above the rail track in its cutting, and we loved being on it when a train went below (don’t forget that the times of which I write were the good old days of steam), with smoke and steam billowing up in great clouds!    The smells were delightful.

Anyway, we set off along the track, and over the wooden bridge and along a cart track (which always seemed in very good condition) for about 200 yards before meeting a five-barred gate.   You know, one of the ones for allowing access to tractors, carts, balers, etc.   Once through this – shut the gate behind you – the track continued across a large open field, with a wood along its north western border, and a stream on its eastern side.    Sticklebacks.   Yes, we caught sticklebacks in that stream; great fun, especially if you had managed to sneak a jam jar into your pocket to keep them in.    Oh, in an aside, my Uncle Harry was the first on the scene when a light plane crashed in that wood, after the war though.    He was then working on a farm at the other side of the wood, run by the Atkins family, one of whom, Ron and his wife Dorothea, moved to Australia, and were actually instrumental in our settling first in Melbourne.

Anyway, where was I?    Oh yes, in that large field.    Sometimes there were cows in that field, and I have always found that cows are very inquisitive people. Just try walking into a field with a herd of cows, and it doesn’t take long before they wander over to have a look at you.    Anyway, the herd of cows who used to use that field would meet you at one gate, and if you talked to them, would wander with you across to the gate at the far corner.    They never seemed in any hurry.    Then, after you had closed the gate, they would look at you for a short while, and then wander off again.