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This is a refuge for the sulkily dispirited.  The two hedgerows insulate the walker from the rest of the world, and the five benches set at intervals bear inscriptions which lead to a meditation on the nature of such a pastorally idyllic place.

The song of a skylark may return us to Shelley,
a lane may lead us back to Clare.
A lane need not meander.
A glimpse of the sea, the sound of a distant aeroplane
open a chink in the solitude of even the deepest lane.
A lane cannot be measured in metres.
In a lane one will not encounter Apollo
but one may come upon Pan.




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Photographs by Andrew Lawson except where noted